Stolen
by thesecretsociety
Summary: Beca Mitchell works for her father who leads a criminal group whose latest mission is to retrieve a stolen treasure from a wealthy business tycoon named Clarence Beale.
1. Traitor

_Rated M. Just in case._

* * *

CHAPTER ONE: **Traitor**

One night when the rain was pouring heavily on earth, Peter Sanders found himself on a pool of mud in the middle of nowhere, lying on his stomach, his eyes blindfolded, and both his hands and feet tied with a rope. He frantically twisted and turned trying to loosen the rope or at least the blindfold around his head but to no avail. He screamed as loud as he could to get anybody's attention for help, but all the response he received was a fit of laughter.

"You can scream as loud as you can but nobody will hear you," he heard a male voice from someone who must be standing just in front of him.

Peter frenziedly tilted his head up but the blindfold still blocked his view. "Who the _fuck_ are you? You, coward son of a bitch!"

Just after he finished that last sentence, he was stomped on his face making him wince in pain.

"Don't you dare call us 'coward'!" the stranger shouted at the man on the ground followed by a hard kick on his face once again.

"Coward!"

Peter felt a pair of hands grabbed him by the collar pulling him up on his feet. He braced himself for a punch, but instead, the stranger removed the blindfold revealing the face of his predator - a tall young man known to be Stan Mitchell.

"You're dead," Stan quietly hissed at his prey.

Peter looked into those pair of rage-filled eyes and felt his blood stopped from circulating. He looked over his shoulder and saw a woman leaning her back on a black Honda Accord bearing no plate number, her features dulled by the darkness of the night and the pouring rain, but the knife she was playing with in her hands caught Peter's full attention.

"W-What are you going to do with me?" he questioned.

Stan flashed a sinister smirk then punched Peter hard on the stomach causing the older guy to fall back on the ground. "I told you you're dead."

"Why are you doing this to me?" Peter whimpered.

"Ah, I can smell your fear."

"S-Stop this already!"

"Did you stop when Erica Porter begged you not to rape her?" Stan yelled at him followed by another stomp on his face.

"The hell you care about what I did to that slut!"

"The Society cares," the tall young man firmly replies. "And we convict you to death."

Peter laughed hysterically, "The Society?"

"Beca, finish him off." The younger man turned around to his sister, ignoring the question, and started to head back to the car. "I don't want this maniac's blood to stain my hands."

Beca Mitchell sighed and slowly walked towards Peter, her favorite pocket knife clenched in her hand.

"W-What are you going to do?" Peter snaked back in fear. "Stop there, you, bitch!"

She tilted her head to the side mockingly and looked straight into his eyes. In her most emotionless voice, she said, "I'll see you in hell, Peter."

With that, she slit his throat with the knife and stabbed him on his chest multiple times just like the way Peter Sanders killed Erica Porter.

* * *

Beca Mitchell trailed quietly behind her older brother as they fought their way through the huge crowd in _Pandemonium_. The club was jam-packed as usual meaning business was doing well. They made their way towards the '_No Unauthorized Person Allowed'_ door and were immediately met by a short black woman with red-dyed bangs.

"Stan," she said as she stood right in front of the door.

"Cynthia Rose," the young man acknowledged.

The woman scoffed and corrected him, "C.R."

"C.R." he repeated.

She turned to Beca and nodded her head towards the typically silent woman, "You good, Beca?"

Beca forced a smile but her face suddenly went back to a blank canvass after a good two seconds.

C.R. shook her head in defeat at trying to make the younger woman convey such an expression that would be beyond a straight face. Subsequently, she pushed the door open and let the siblings in.

"It's never too late to show some emotions, Beca."

The black woman made another attempt to convince her but the brunette only brushed her off as she followed her brother down to a secret passageway. They entered an elevator. Stan pushed the button labeled with an outline of a phoenix whose wings spread wide open towards an upward direction forming what seemed to be a blazing fire and an extended dagger-like feather at the bottom – the emblem of The Secret Society. And then the elevator started to lower them down. The older Mitchell carelessly dropped his backpack and took his soaking wet shirt off putting his gorgeous pack of abs on display.

"I need a shower," he announced while Beca simply maintained a straight face as a reaction to her brother's sudden course of action.

"Have you not learned the effect of that abs on Fat Amy?" she quietly asked.

He wore a naughty grin on his face. "I know the effect of this abs on girls, alright?"

Beca slowly shook her head in annoyance and eagerly exited the elevator, muttering, "Don't count me in."

Stan chuckled at his sister's comment and quickly picked the backpack up then followed her to the secret headquarters where they were immediately welcomed back by Jesse and Fat Amy who were already biting her lower lip as she stared dumbfounded on Stan's half-naked body.

"How's your mission?" Jesse instantly asked.

Stan handed the backpack over.

"Half a million bucks _neatly_ stolen from the Walters Bank. And, uh, we ran into some Syndics at noon. They're all dead."

"And Sanders?"

Stan turned his head towards Beca who quietly reported, "Dead."

"_I'm_ dead," the blonde girl with that thick Australian accent mumbled to herself as she restrained herself from touching Stan's photoshop-perfect abs causing the boys to chuckle while their brunette teammate shook her head in annoyance.

Suddenly, the door to the Green Room flung open and all eyes were directed to it. Two bald men, one in a red shirt while the other in a blue shirt, both with huge and bulky muscles threw out a clearly beaten Benji. He held his stomach as he lied helplessly on the ground. Jesse instinctively moved to help his friend but was immediately restrained by Stan. Well, certainly, it would have been a very bad idea.

"I don't need a fucking _traitor_ in this group." Phil Mitchell walked out of the room and stood right in between the two bald men. He secured a cigarette in between his mouth and the one wearing a red shirt quickly lit up the end of it. The current Head of The Society blew some smoke out of his mouth as he turned to look at everyone present inside the headquarters, then pointed at Benji who was already coughing out some blood. "_This_, right here, is a _very_ good example of a _fucking_ traitor."

Stan whispered to himself, "What the hell did he do?"

"I'm sensing it's Beale," Fat Amy quietly shared her hypothesis.

"Who are we?" Phil shouted at no one in particular.

Everyone quickly replied in chorus, "The Secret Society."

"And what is the code of The Secret Society?"

"Fidelity to The Society."

Phil glared down at the man fighting for his life on the floor. "_Fidelity_... to... The... _Society_."

"I-I'm sorry," the young man weakly cried.

The oldest Mitchell chuckled at him. "Apology doesn't bring back the dead, Benji. You know that."

"They'll kill him," Fat Amy remorsefully muttered in realization.

"Where's Jesse?" Phil scanned the room restlessly until his eyes fell upon the young man's face. "Come here, boy."

Jesse, startled by the sudden command and with all the attention upon him, slowly walked towards the group leader, his eyes could barely glance on his friend crippled down on the floor. Phil pulled out a gun, installed a silencer at the end of it, and handed it over to the brunet.

"Kill him," he bluntly ordered.

Stan was the only one who bravely spoke his mind, "Jesse doesn't kill. He works at the Intelligence department, dad."

But the group leader threw a death glare at his son because one, he called him 'dad' and two, he was rudely intervening. "I don't remember asking your opinion, Stan."

"Sorry," Stan mumbled and recoiled in his position.

"Now kill him, Swanson."

Jesse Swanson swallowed hard the lump in his throat and then took a deep breath before turning around to face his friend. He shakily raised his hands up and directed the end of the gun towards Benji's chest. Tears started falling from his eyes and his face tensed up. A smile bravely crept on Benji's lips in acceptance as he looked into his friend's eyes for the last time in his life.

"Fidelity to The Society," Jesse whispered to no one in particular then hurriedly pulled the trigger before he could even change his mind. The bullet quietly penetrated the pale skin and plunged into Benji's heart. Then, he was dead in an instant. He was Jesse's first kill ever. In his entire life, he killed no one but his friend. In fact, Benji was his best friend.

Phil clapped his hands while he chuckled in amusement. "Very good, Jesse. And keep the gun. You might need it again in the future."

Jesse silently dragged himself back to his remaining friends, holding a loose grip on the gun in his hand, while the two bald men carelessly pulled Benji's lifeless body for disposal as the others went back to their own little worlds.

"Jesse," Fat Amy rested a hand on his shoulder.

"I killed him," he responded, just staring at the gun resting on his palm, his tears falling like waterfall on the surface. "I killed Benji. I killed my best friend."

Beca did not bother to give him a look as she spoke, "You did what you had to do."

Her older brother threw a death glare at her. She's supposed to say something that would make the guy feel better, but instead, she acted too indifferent towards the entire situation. That's because Beca knew better. In reality, she knew that nothing would make him feel better. He just killed the man who happened to be his best friend. History will remember him that way. Besides, '_Apology doesn't bring back the dead.'_ Fact. So all that's left to do was to simply move on with life. Simple philosophy.

"Beca."

She turned towards her father who summoned her to the Green Room out of the blue for whatever reason.

* * *

Aubrey Posen sat nervously on the couch as she patiently watched Chloe restlessly paced back and forth. They were watching the news report about the redhead's father's unexpected escape from his kidnappers.

_"Business tycoon, President and C.E.O. of Phoenix Corporation, Clarence Beale, had surprisingly escaped from his kidnappers this evening. After a week of being held capture allegedly in exchange of a $500,000,000-ransom money by a still unidentified criminal group, Beale is now safely in the hands of the proper authorities. But even after the life-threatening experience, the wealthy businessman, in an ambush interview, insisted that his own security group would already keep him and his daughter, Chloe Beale, in a tighter security this time-"_

Chloe suddenly switched off the television with the remote. "I can't take this anymore," she breathed out.

"Relax," Aubrey rushed to the side of her best friend and breathed along with her for comfort. "Just relax, Chloe. Breathe, breathe."

"I want to see him now!" Chloe exclaimed in frustration.

"Your father will be here in no time," the blonde assured her as she gently rubbed her best friend's back.

As if on cue, the door opened and a tall man with the same shade of red hair entered the room accompanied by not less than seven men in black suits. "Chloe?"

"Daddy!" Chloe ran to embrace her long lost father. "Are you okay? What did they do to you? What did they want?"

"I'm fine now," Clarence smiled down at his daughter. "Are _you_ okay?"

"I was so worried!" she hit her father on the chest. "You said you were going on a business trip, dad! I turned the TV on that same night and suddenly you were kidnapped! And where did that ransom thing came from anyway? I didn't receive any call or whatsoever from the kidnappers."

"Forget about it," he said. "I'm back, so stop worrying now. Leave the worries up to me, honey, okay?"

"Does it mean this isn't over yet?"

She waited for an answer but her father remained silent.

"Are they still after you? 'Cause if that's a yes, then I have everything to worry about, dad."

Clarence sighed and rested his hands on his daughter's shoulders as he looked straight into those bright blue eyes. "Listen to me, Chloe."

The redhead anxiously waited for her father's news that even that little interval felt like years for her.

"I may have done something really stupid in the past, but that's _my_ problem, okay? It's not yours to worry about, honey. It was my fault that I got captured, but this time, Luke and his men will keep us both safe."

But her father's words did not make her feel calm or secured at all. In all honesty, this revelation only increased the terror inside her.

"What did you do?" her eyes plead for answers from her father.

Clarence shook his head in disapproval then reached for his daughter's face and said, "I love you, my sweetheart. All I really need is for you to be safe. That's all I really want, Chloe."

Somehow, that did the trick. Chloe rationalized that if both of them stayed all worried about the whole damn situation, it would probably be a bad idea. She thought she had to simply trust her father on this one. This time, they would all be more careful. They would build more protective walls to let nobody come near them to harm. She realized that as long as she had her father safe and sound with her, she really had nothing to worry about. So what she did was to nod her head in agreement and gave her father another one long embrace.

* * *

"So aren't you going to ask me about what happened out there?" Phil sat on his table and smoked on the cigarette on his mouth.

"It's not my business," Beca simply replied.

Her father chuckled. "That's what I like about you, Beca. You're not as nosy as your brother."

"Stan cares too much."

"And you?"

She shrugged, "I only care about The Society."

"Excellent." Phil nodded his head, amazed at how well he had groomed his daughter for such way of life.

"So why am I here?" she questioned. Feeling that her time was starting to get wasted, she pulled out a cigarette for herself as well and make the most out of this unexpected conversation.

Phil picked up three piece of darts from his table and threw it on the cork board at the wall. In a matter of a second, one landed on a picture of Clarence Beale right on his chest.

"Have you ever met Clarence Beale?" he turned to his daughter.

Beca shook her head and breathe some smoke out of her mouth.

"Perfect." Phil grinned. "That way he has no idea that he's already looking into the eyes of an enemy."

"So when do I kill him?"

"No, Beca. Don't be so eager. You are not to kill him… at least not yet." He paused to smoke again and then threw another piece of those small missiles towards the picture. "What I want you and your team to worry about is the stolen treasure."

Beca managed to keep her usual straight face but the curiosity seriously burned her insides.

"There is a treasure that used to belong to The Secret Society, a wealth more than you could ever imagine. Because I thought he was a friend, I let him keep it, but now he thinks he owns it, stole it away, and hid it somewhere. Certainly, the Council members are not amused by his choice of action."

Phil pushed a button on a nearby remote control, switching on the television screen for Beca to see a recorded video of Clarence Beale being escorted into a black limousine.

"You see, we managed to capture him with the plan of extracting the necessary information as to where he buried the treasure. We _almost_ got him, Beca… until that fucked up Benji helped him escape."

Of course, it was only rational that Benji would help his former master. Clarence Beale used to be a member of the Council and Benji worked directly under him. Beale used to hold such kind of a great power within this secret organization but not until he decided to steal the treasure. That made him a traitor, and Benji's ultimate loyalty to his master made him a traitor too. Simple logic: it's because the rule says _'Fidelity to The Society',_ not_'to your master_'.

"You want me to retrieve the stolen treasure," Beca concluded then smoked some more.

A sinister smile appeared on her father's lips. "Yes, please. And do everything you can, Beca."

"What about Beale?"

"You have a special mission to worry about already. Let the rest of us take care of him afterwards."

That only meant that it's not her business anymore, and Beca Mitchell did not like the idea of worrying over businesses that are not her business to mind about. So she simply nodded her head in agreement. That's how The Secret Society worked for her anyway.

* * *

The next day, after doing some charity work, Chloe along with Aubrey dropped by at her father's office at the Phoenix Tower. They were automatically met by her father's secretary, Gail, and were led right into his office. The man in an elegant coat and tie immediately acknowledged the arrival of his daughter and her blonde companion.

"Dad, you asked for me?" she planted a quick kiss on his father's cheek before staring up at him.

Clarence nodded his head, "Yes. I needed to talk to you about something."

"What about?"

"From now on, I have to know all of your whereabouts, Chloe."

For a moment, the redhead was taken aback by the sudden demand from her father.

"I believe you are always well-informed about the events and appointments that I have to attend to, dad."

"No. Not just charity events or photo shoots or interviews or public appearances or whatever. I meant _everything_, honey. I want to be informed about everything. I want to be informed when you leave the house, where you are off to, who you are with, what time do you leave the venue, and even when you are inside the house."

"But-"

Clarence hurriedly cut her off. "And no more sneaking out, please? I want to be informed as well when you go out with your friends or with… boys. They better _behave_, by the way."

Chloe rolled her eyes and folded her arms over her chest as a sign of protest.

"If you don't report to me, then I'll call Aubrey." The old man looked over her shoulder to throw a charming wink at his daughter's best friend. "Can I count on you, Aubrey?"

Aubrey had no other choice but to nod her head as an approval to the coerced agreement so much for Chloe's displeasure.

"And one more thing," her father raised a finger. "I'm hiring a bodyguard just for you."

"What?"

Chloe's eyes widened in surprise while her best friend instantly dropped her jaw on the floor.

"I'm hiring a bodyguard for you," the old man simply repeated as he turned around to take his seat. "Luke will stay with me all the time so I need to hire 'another Luke' to watch over you 24/7."

Aubrey gasped, "24/7?"

"Yes," he casually nodded his head. "He will be directly accountable to _me_ so don't even think about bribing him, Chloe."

The redhead smashed her hands on the table in a formal protest. "Isn't it enough that I have to tell you about all of my whereabouts, dad?"

"I'm just being careful here, honey."

"No! You are being _un_democratic."

"Oh so now it's _un_democratic when a father wants to keep his daughter safe from any harm?"

"That's not the point."

"That's the only point here, Chloe."

"I'm a 23-year-old _grown _woman but you're treating me like a child, dad, by _hiring_ somebody to watch over me _24/7_."

"I'm sorry that you're just too important to me that I want to keep you safe."

"As long as you are safe then I feel safe, dad. I don't need a _dog_ trailing behind me 24/7."

_"Sir, your meeting will start in 5 minutes._"

Gail's voice echoed through the speaker. Chloe instantly threw a 'we are not yet done here' look at her father, but Clarence Beale pushed on the button and instructed his secretary to come fetch his stuff for the meeting immediately.

"I'm still hiring you your own bodyguard, Chloe. End of discussion."

Chloe gasped in frustration but her father already rose from his seat in time for Gail's arrival. Clarence gave the redhead a quick fatherly kiss on her head and made his way out of the room leaving her behind with Aubrey who only had a sorry look for her best friend.

* * *

_So what do you think? :)_


	2. Lover

**_MysticFalls94, XxSendrickShipperxX, _**_and **CH:** Nice to 'see' you, guys, again :)_

_****__MysticFalls94: __My penname has nothing to do with the story :) i just thought it would be a cool name for a secret criminal group. and thanks for the review for 'The Dying Process'__  
_

**___cxcxcx386: _**___Thanks :)_

**___Guest _**___(who is saddened by Benji's death): I really like Benji too, but I needed to kill him off. It's something vital to the story._

**___Miss North:_**___ I may have referred to Crazy Stupid Love with the 'photoshop-abs' but I haven't read the City of Bones. I took the name of the club from John Milton's Paradise Lost. I wanted something that would 'sound evil but grand', you know. PS. Please do say thank you to your friends for me ;)_

**___oftherose13: _**___That's exactly what I wanted to convey :)_

___Okay, I guess we're all off to a good start. Makes me feel so excited :) Now, with the story, I feel the need to remind you that's it Rated M. Consider yourselves warned :)_

* * *

CHAPTER TWO: **Lover**

Chloe on her bare feet walked out of her walk-in closet wearing a white floral dress with ruffled-hems. She put a hand on her hip and flaunted the dress.

"What do you think about this, Aubrey?" the redhead asked her best friend who was seated on the bed absentmindedly flipping through the pages of an entertainment magazine.

Aubrey took a very quick glance at the woman before returning her focus on the magazine.

"I thought you're going out on a date. I didn't know Tom is taking you to a Hawaiian-themed '90s party."

"You could have just said 'no', alright?" Chloe rolled her eyes. "And _maybe_ you want to get your ass off of that couch and come help me pick a dress? We've been doing this for one and a half hour already. I'm going to be late!"

"Believe it or not, I'm trying to help you here." The blonde picked up another magazine and started to carelessly flip through the pages once again. "You need to find a dress that would make me engrossingly glue my eyes on you, like there's nothing else in this world that I have to see but you. _That's_ what you want your boyfriend to feel right when he sees you."

Chloe thought about it for a second. That's exactly what she wanted. That's what every girl wants when they are spending time with their boyfriend – get all his attention as if you are the only one he sees even though you're standing among a pack of beauty queens, as if his life depended on you, and as if you are everything that matters in this gigantic universe.

"Please don't tell me you're wearing that." Aubrey subsequently ran her eyes on her best friend from head to toe with a scrutinizing look on her face when the ginger didn't move at all.

"God, no." Chloe looked down at the dress she was wearing and grimaced at how awful she looked on it.

"Then don't just stand there. Go, change, Chloe. Hurry up!"

The ginger hurriedly went back to her walk-in closet and looked through every rack of clothing she had in there desperately trying to look for the perfect dress for her date.

* * *

Beca, Stan, Jesse, and Fat Amy had been sitting at a round table for the last couple of hours brainstorming on the possible places where Clarence Beale could have hidden the stolen treasure of The Secret Society. After sorting everything out, all that's left was the Beale Manor, the Phoenix Tower, the Phoenix Bank, and _'somewhere he knows we would never be able to think of'_.

"I don't think he would hide the treasure in his house because that would mean putting his daughter into danger," Stan rationalized as the rest of the teams listened to him. "He spends most of his time in the office but all that's left at night are regular security guards while hiding it in the bank meant too much risk. Even regular thieves would accidentally go after it."

"_Somewhere he knows we would never be able to think of_," Fat Amy read the option typed on her laptop screen which seemed to be the only option they got at the end of this discussion. "Wow. That sounds _really_ specific and _not_ hopeless… _at all_."

Stan turned to Jesse and asked, "Are you sure Benji never mentioned anything?"

Jesse frowned at the mention of Benji's name; the memory of him pointing the gun at him froze in his mind, a perpetual reminder that he killed his best friend. But eventually, he shook his head in response.

"Come on, Jesse." Stan forced the other guy to feed them with any necessary information. "Any hint or tip-off or something… _anything _at all."

Jesse shrugged his shoulders, "He was very loyal to his master. I don't think he would simply give out information to anyone about any of Beale's plans especially if it would surely put the man in danger. He looked up to Clarence Beale so much as if he is some kind of a hero."

Stan sighed heavily and sunk down into his seat. He shook his head in annoyance and then turned to his sister whose only instance of speaking up was when she briefed the team on the special mission in one short sentence.

"What do you say, Beca?"

"Benji was well aware of Beale's plans," she answered, keeping a straight face. "He knew his master would steal the treasure and betray The Society."

"What if he didn't?" Jesse challenged her as a defense in behalf of his already dead friend. "What if he didn't know anything at all?"

"Don't you find it suspicious that Benji stayed even after Beale left the organization?" Beca directed her sharp eyes on Jesse. "If he was so loyal to the man that he was more than willing to die for him, why didn't he leave The Society with Beale? He could have saved himself from the conviction of death by escaping with him. You know Beale would have taken him, but Benji stayed. I say they had a plan, they needed someone to protect Beale from the inside; but it failed when Benji was caught by our men. Now they're moving on to Plan B."

Fat Amy nodded her head. "That makes sense."

"But that doesn't say anything about where the treasure is." Stan sat straight up as the discussion just started to get interesting. "_Hypothetically_ speaking, let's say Benji knew everything – the betrayal and the location of the stolen treasure. Well, it doesn't matter now because he's dead anyway."

All three focused their eyes back on Jesse. While Benji's dead, his best friend was still alive. He might produce something out of nothing. The two talked about everything. Benji must have had dropped some hints during one of those conversations.

"I'm sorry." Jesse, pressured by the looks he was receiving, desperately shook his head. "If Benji mentioned something about the stolen treasure, you know I would tell you, guys. But I really don't know. All he mentioned everytime we talked about Clarence Beale was how brave the man is. He said the man would never leave or run away. Even if The Society would get on his tail, he would wait for us and fight back. And that's why Benji had to be as brave as his hero."

Stan and Fat Amy groaned at the blurred future of the special mission and slumped on their respective seats. Phil won't be happy about this report, but Beca kept her composure on as she seemed to unlock something out of Jesse's testimonial.

"Manor house," she quietly proclaimed. "The stolen treasure is in his manor house."

"What?" The other three turned their full attention to her.

"_He would never leave or run away_," she repeated Jesse's words which made the most sense to her. "Everything he owns right now, he stole them from The Society. The Phoenix Corporation… _we _are the Phoenix, the Phoenix _is_ The Secret Society. Our members are scattered all around the world. It's not really that he's brave enough to stay, but he's got nowhere to run to. All that's left is the Beale Manor. It's all he's got. Hence, it's the safest place he could ever be and so is the safest place to keep such precious treasure. Besides, he knew we would resort to somewhere else, somewhere really far from him thinking he won't put his family into danger."

"Really, Beca?" Jesse looked surprised with the theory she just instantly came up with. "You got all of that from, like, one sentence?"

The brunette simply stared back at him in response.

Fat Amy clapped her hands together in excitement. Finally, they're moving forward with the special mission just when they were beginning to think it was a dead end street. Stan slowly nodded his head and favorably smiled at his sister.

"But we don't know exactly _where_ in the manor," Jesse worriedly posted the new problem they had to solve. "If I'm not mistaken, the treasure is worth $300,000,000,000. It could be scattered everywhere in the house, we don't know. And how are we going to get inside in the first place? They've already tighten the security. It's almost _impossible_ to get in without getting caught."

"Yeah, you stressed on the wrong word, Jesse," the Australian chick pointed out, a smirk sitting on her lips. "It's _almost_ impossible. Just almost."

* * *

Aubrey looked through the car window and grimaced at the sight of a bar club.

"_Pandemonium?_" she read the huge neon lights on the wall spelling out the name of the establishment. "Edward, are you sure this is it?" she questioned her chauffeur.

"Yes, Miss Posen," the 40-year-old chauffeur with raven hair answered. "This is the place and the address given by Mr. Jacobs."

Aubrey turned to her best friend who was sitting agitatedly next to her in the car, chewing on her lower lip. "I thought you two are going on a romantic dinner date under the stars?"

"That was just my imagination," the redhead confessed and sighed heavily.

The blonde scoffed. "You do realize that this is a bar club, right? Tom's taking you here for a 'romantic date'? I mean, it's named _Pandemonium_, for Christ's sake. It's the capital of hell, Chloe. Your dad will never approve of this."

"Uh, who cares if my dad approves or not?" Chloe grabbed her purse and started to move out. She was still pissed by the sudden demands of her father. "I'm going in."

"Hey, this is not what we told him!"

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him, Aubrey." The redhead flashed her best friend a 'this is our dirty little secret then' look and marched towards the entrance of the club where Tom was already waiting in line with his friends.

"Tom," she called out, and then excitedly threw herself to her boyfriend, wrapping her hands around his neck.

"Hey there, sexy." The brunet gave her an immodest kiss on her lips which tasted like cigarette that Chloe just chose to ignore. Instead, she forced a smile and waited for him to compliment her dress, to tell her she looked beautiful that night, to admit that he was happy to spend the time together, to have his eyes glued on her for the rest of the evening, and make her feel too important to be snubbed. But instead, Tom turned back to his friends as they continued their conversation about 'hot chicks' forgetting in an instant that his so-called girlfriend was standing right there next to him.

* * *

"I have mapped the entire house in my computer," Fat Amy explained to her teammates. "But this is according to the latest files of Benji, any renovations made beyond this time frame are no longer exhibited in this map, so we have to be careful about the new security measures installed. We'll start searching for the treasure in Beale's home office."

"A vault," Jesse snapped, his eyes squinted as he tried to remember a very distant memory. "We need to look for a vault. The treasure must be there. I remember a drunk Benji saying he needed to guard his master's vault."

"Er, that sounds disturbing." Fat Amy raised both her eyebrows and pursed her lips together.

"Hold on." Stan turned to Fat Amy who flirtatiously smiled at her crush. "We can't all go in there and execute the plan especially if we're going to do this at daytime. It's too risky."

"Why can't we do it at night again?" Beca inquired one more time as she had been initially opposed to the idea of it.

Jesse threw a glare at her. "The security is too tight at night. No enemy can ever get out of there alive if he even managed to get in. As soon as Clarence Beale leaves the house, that's when we get in. Most of the security will be with him."

"Then who's going to do it?" Stan asked patiently. The question here really was 'would it be Stan or Beca?' because the other two are both in the Intelligence department. They were not necessarily trained to go out in the field to do the job.

After a good three seconds, Fat Amy and Jesse directed their eyes towards the quiet brunette who was already lighting up a cigarette.

"You really are small, Beca." Fat Amy explained apologetically, and Stan couldn't help but laugh at that. "It's an advantage when you don't want to get caught."

Beca simply rolled her eyes then glared at her brother. "Yes, Stan, it's an advantage. I'd like to think it's because I'm so much better than you, if you don't mind."

Stan simply gave her a smirk before happily standing up. "I guess we're done here. Now if you could please excuse me, I think I'm going partying upstairs now." He turned to his sister. "You might want to get some rest, kiddo, for your job tomorrow."

"I need some booze," the brunette contended, standing up, and walking past her brother towards the elevator.

"Oh we're going?" Fat Amy hurriedly shut her laptop down and followed closely behind Stan. She swore in her mind to follow him everywhere for the entire evening.

So all that's left was a totally confused Jesse on his seat. He turned towards the elevator and called out to his teammates, "Hey, what about me?"

* * *

Chloe impatiently sat all by herself at the booth as she watched this girl she had labeled as 'the blonde slut in a micro skirt' flirt with her so-called boyfriend who didn't seem to mind at all. In fact, he seemed to be flirting back, whispering whatever he was whispering into that blonde slut's ear. Jealousy burned Chloe in the inside. This was definitely not the kind of a date that she had initially in mind. She pictured it to be romantic or intimate, but the only thing Tom did that evening was to acknowledge Chloe's presence from time to time. This place was really a Pandemonium, Chloe concluded. She knew she should have left the premise hours ago, but her stupid heart convinced her to stay with her boyfriend with the hope that he might actually do something romantic and intimate with her.

"Chloe."

Finally, Tom had the decency to return to their booth with a glass of vodka in his hand. Of course, he didn't even remember to get his girlfriend a drink.

"I want to go home," she told him but the loud music swallowed her words before it could even reach his ears.

"What did you say?" he yelled out.

"I want to go home," she repeated, this time the volume was loud enough.

Tom placed the glass on the table and wrapped his arms around Chloe's back. He let out a heavy sigh then turned to Chloe. She knew it's an indication that she pissed him off, but he had been pissing her off all evening so what the hell.

"You said we're going to do something fun," she pointed out.

"I _am_ having fun."

"Well, I'm not."

"That's not my problem, Chloe."

Her mouth suddenly formed a big 'O' in great disbelief and beyond disappointment.

"What do you want me to do, Chloe?" he annoyingly asked her.

"I just want you to start acting like my boyfriend if that's not much of a bother to you," she furiously answered.

"You want to have fun?" he smirked at her, and she calmly nodded her head. "Then we can do something fun. Here, have a drink."

Tom reached for the alcohol on the table and handed it over to her. At first, Chloe hesitated but drank the whole thing anyway. At least, her boyfriend was finally paying her some attention. She didn't even have the time to lean back when Tom suddenly pulled her face towards him and crashed his lips into hers. He didn't make the effort to do it as gentle as possible, he basically kissed her aggressively. There was nothing romantic about it, not even in a kinky way, but it was at least intimate enough so Chloe with all her frustration for a date with him kissed him back just as aggressively as she could. Moreover, she let his hands hiked up her dress and caressed her leg. This was not her at all, but she was doing it for Tom.

Chloe pulled away causing the displeasure on Tom's face. "I need more drink," she said briefly kissing him on the lips before rushing to the bar to order as much alcohol as she needed for the evening.

* * *

Beca closed the cubicle door and pushed up Stacie against it. She wasted no time in raving on the tall girl's neck as she held a grip on her waist. Beca pushed her thigh into Stacie causing her to moan in pleasure.

"The fact that we're doing this in a public bathroom makes it all the more hot." Stacie bucked her hips against Beca, and the other woman simply ignored her comment.

Beca yanked her partner's blouse off revealing a pair of perky breasts sitting prettily on Stacie's black bra. The smaller woman reached to unhook it with one hand and proceeded with trailing kisses on Stacie's shoulder then on her collarbone until she reached the valley between her perky breasts. She sucked one in her mouth while she massaged the other, kneading it and molding it to her liking.

"That feels really good, Beca." Stacie bit her lower lip as Beca started to lick those erected nipples. "Someone's hungry tonight."

"I might die tomorrow," Beca gasped in response. "I just want to fuck you tonight."

Stacie pulled away and shot her a frown, "Does it mean this is the last time you're going to fuck me?"

"Maybe," Beca absentmindedly replied before going back to her work. She pulled Stacie's short shorts down and was surprised to see that the curly-haired woman wasn't wearing anything down there at all.

She simply shrugged, "It comes in handy."

But Beca brushed her off as she caressingly rubbed her causing Stacie to moan. She was wet enough that Beca simply slid two fingers inside the tall woman who shut her eyes and quivered as Beca's fingers danced inside her. Stacie groaned in pleasure and held Beca's head into place as the small woman continued to work on her insides while trailing kisses on her breasts once again.

"I want your tongue," Stacie ordered and pushed Beca down who automatically dropped on her knees, spreading Stacie's legs further apart, then giving her one long gentle lick.

"Fuck." Stacie's head fell back on the floor. She lifted a leg and rested it on Beca's shoulder as the small woman worked her magic on her when the girl suddenly blurted out, "I love you, Beca."

And that stopped the woman on her knees from tongue-fucking the lady. She stood up pushing the leg on her shoulder off and looked into Stacie's lustful eyes.

"Something wrong?" the curly-haired woman panted.

Beca shook her head and said in her usual blank expression, "I just want to get this over with."

"But-" Stacie would have protested but then Beca plunged one, two, three fingers into her and her eyes involuntarily rolled to the back of her head as she groaned loudly, not caring if anybody would hear them. Beca buried her head on Stacie's chest as she thrust into her faster and harder each time causing the tall woman to scream in ecstasy and her leg to twitch elatedly around Beca's hips. Just as soon as Stacie reached her climax, the cubicle door broke down with all their sex-hungry weight pushed against it causing them both to fall on the floor with Beca on top of a half-naked Stacie.

"That was, like, so hot," Fat Amy quietly muttered to herself as she stood right there looking down at them awkwardly. "But Phil will surely get pissed when he finds out about the broken door."

"Fat Amy!" Stacie exclaimed and frantically covered herself. "How long have you been there?"

"I was trying to pee when you two decided to fuck here," the blonde bluntly replied.

Ignoring the two other ladies, Beca pushed herself up and walked to the sink to clean herself up without even thinking of helping Stacie get back on her feet who frowned at the coldness shown by the small woman. Beca fixed herself up without any word as if nothing happened then pulled out a cigarette from her breast pocket as she headed towards the door.

"Beca," Fat Amy called out. "You think your brother would fuck me like that someday?"

"Maybe if you can guide me back out safe and sound tomorrow," Beca blankly responded and casually walked out of the door.

Fat Amy averted her eyes from the door towards Stacie who was trying to pull herself together before anybody else enters the restroom.

"And then she left the slut," the blonde sheepishly looked at the brunette who shot her a death glare. "I'm sorry, Stacie, but she's just never going to love you back, sweetie."

* * *

The next day, Chloe woke up with an aching head. She felt so tired from all the dancing, drinking, and making out from the previous night. Still with her eyes closed, she shifted her body towards her bedside table to check on her digital clock for the time, but only to fall down on the floor. Her eyes shut wide open when she finally realized she wasn't in her bedroom. _Shit_, she thought. She never managed to get home last night. Tom simply left her there. It was bad. It was really bad especially when her father finds out about it. She started gathering her things and hurriedly searched for her way out of the _Pandemonium_.

* * *

"Are you ready?" Stan asked his sister as he sipped on a cup of coffee.

Beca put her black leather jacket on and shook her wavy hair into place. She fished a pancake from the plate on the table and carelessly put it into her mouth as she replied, "Whether or not, let's fucking do this."

"Fuck," Fat Amy purposely coughed out receiving an evil glare from the brunette's end. The blonde hurriedly turned her eyes on her laptop screen. "Yeah, I'll shut up now."

Jesse sat on his seat uncomfortably while Stan started laughing.

"I've certainly heard about the broken door."

"Can we all please concentrate on the mission now?" the brunette chose to brush the issue off and suddenly everybody became serious again except for Fat Amy who briefly daydreamed about Stan.

"Here." Jesse handed a set of spy communication device over to Beca who quickly placed the earpiece in her left ear and the microphone strategically on her jacket. "I attached a tracker on your earpiece as well so we can tract you on Fat Amy's laptop. We'll direct you as you go around the manor."

Beca bent down to slide her pocket knife and a tiny flashlight into her boots, just in case.

"Key," Stan threw the car key towards his sister who caught in time with one hand. She fished out another pancake then headed towards the elevator. "Good luck, kiddo."

* * *

Chloe pushed herself out of the door and was somehow glad to finally see some light. She looked around for a cab as she impatiently waited for her best friend to answer her call. "Aubrey!" she shrieked when the blonde finally answered.

"Where are you?" Aubrey quietly hissed from the other end of the line. "I'm at your house and you're not in your room, Chloe! Tell me you did go home last night."

"Um," Chloe nervously bit her lower lip. "I'm still at the club."

Aubrey's furious voice blasted out of the speaker, "You have to come home now, Chloe! I told you, that _Pandemonium _shit is a very bad idea. You're lucky enough that your father hasn't insisted on checking on you yet, I told him you're still sleeping. Come home now, please? I don't know if I can still lie to your dad."

Chloe started to panic. "Just cover for me, Aubrey. I'm coming home, I swear."

The redhead removed her high heels and held it in her hands, her feet was aching already. She kept the phone in between her cheek and her shoulder but her mind wasn't even listening to Aubrey's lecture on her anymore. She just really wanted to go home, and fast. She abruptly stepped out of the sidewalk to cross the street unmindful of the car fast approaching towards her. It was only when a loud horn blasted into her hungover brain that she realized the danger coming towards her, but instead of getting her ass off of the road, she simply froze in place, shutting her eyes firmly, bracing for the collision. She didn't even hear the loud screech of the wheels against the road, but after what seemed like a lifetime, she opened her eyes to see her trembling knees just inches away from the bumper of the shiny gray-colored Aston Martin Volante and her phone lying next to her feet. She let out a deep breath she forgot she was holding on to for a long time.

"I'm still in one piece," she quietly muttered to herself.

The driver blew on the horn once again prompting Chloe to look up and meet those pair of deep blue eyes indifferently staring up at her.

* * *

_Okay, the 'sex scene' was probably a bad idea (the risk of losing some readers). I, myself, was not comfortable writing it, but I needed to include that to establish something about Beca's personality. I'll never put anything that is not necessary to the story :) **And please forget about the confident Chloe from the movie. What we have here is a little insecure Chloe ;)**_

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Pitch Perfect.


	3. Stranger

**_avidreader: _**_Thanks. __I hate Tom, too ;)_

**_CH: _**_I intend Fat Amy and Stan to look adorable together, but we'll see... :)_

**_MysticFalls94: _**_Your review reminded me so much of the Poison & Wine days when everybody was trying to guess what will happen in the next chapter. LOL_

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: To refrain from causing some confusion, all italicized lines/comments/statements are Fat Amy's unless stated otherwise. Now, you can start reading :)_

* * *

CHAPTER THREE: **Stranger**

Beca sat silently on her seat and simply focused on driving down the road while the redhead seated at the passenger side noisily talked to her best friend who was on the other end of the phone line. The driver let out a deep sigh as she patiently waited for the noise to end.

"I'm fine, Aubrey. Somebody's going to drive me home." Chloe took a quick glance at the awkwardly silent stranger as she absentmindedly listened to her best friend's rants against the phone. "Okay. Uh-huh. Just keep your cool."

Starting to get irritated by the sudden hullabaloo that crashed into her life, Beca intentionally cleared her throat implying her discomfort, and a fit of laughter blasted through the earpiece sitting on her left ear.

_"You could use some noise once in a while, Beca_._" _

She heard Fat Amy's thick Australian accent which caused her to roll her eyes in annoyance. She had a special mission to accomplish with the consideration of the probability of her getting killed that very same day, but suddenly, she had this too loud of a stupid person that she had to be worried about too.

"Wait for me at the front gate, okay? Bye." Chloe made the last instruction to her best friend before hanging up the phone, and then sheepishly leaned back to her seat. "Turn left when you get to the intersection, please?"

_"Nice, you're just on the right track. Turn left at the intersection indeed."_

And Beca merely obeyed the orders she was getting.

Chloe turned towards the brunette and smiled pleasantly at her. "You have a very nice car, by the way."

But the driver simply ignored the positive comment.

"I'm sorry I forgot to introduce myself," the redhead made another attempt at striking up a conversation. "I'm Chloe, and you are?"

_"Ooh. She wants you to talk."_

Again, Beca ignored the sing-song voice from the Australian chick as well as the red-haired girl sitting on the passenger seat.

"Would you like to listen to some music?" asked Chloe, and reached to turn the radio on, but Beca quickly turned it off without stating any reason. The redhead immediately shot her a look. "Hey!"

But the other simply ignored the glare she was receiving.

"They install a radio in a car for a reason," the redhead argued.

But instead of even considering it, Beca carelessly punched the audio system until the materials cracked. She pulled the unit out, cutting off the wirings, and then threw it out the window.

"Why would you do that?" the lost heiress screamed at the stranger with bad temper.

_"What did you do, Beca?"_

"I just really needed to hear something else," Chloe reasoned out. "You won't talk to me so I figured the radio would keep me sane. I can't stand the silent treatment, you know."

Still, the driver kept her mouth shut as if she didn't hear anything. Worse, as if she was all by herself in the car disregarding the presence of the other lady.

"Fine." The redhead leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. "If you don't want to talk then I'll talk, and I _won't_ stop talking until you talk to me."

_"Uh oh."_

"You know, I just had the worst night ever in my entire life. I spent three hours getting ready for what I thought would be the most romantic date with my boyfriend, but it turned out it was one night in hell. He let me sit all by myself in the booth while he went around flirting with every girl in the bar except me, his girlfriend. Do you know how infuriating that feels? It feels like he doesn't even care about me at all. All I really wanted was to spend some quality time with him, but what did he do? God, he even got me drunk! Now I have this terrible headache, and-"

"Stop!" Beca screamed in complete irritation. She couldn't tolerate the madness anymore. She abruptly pulled the car over to the side of the road and turned towards the redhead. "Would you shut the fuck up?"

_"Okay, that was really harsh, Beca."_

At first, Chloe nervously moved back from the angry stranger but after a minute, a playful smirk suddenly crept out of her lips. "See? It's not that difficult to talk, you know."

_"She got you there, Beca."_

The brunette shook her head in disbelief. This girl right here was killing her and definitely not in a good way. She's utterly beyond annoying, completely nosy, and too chatty for her type. Beca hated all that. So she reached to the opposite side and opened the door for the ginger.

"Get out," she ordered.

"What?"

"I said, 'get out'."

_"You're seriously going to do that?"_

"Shut up," Beca told Fat Amy but Chloe didn't know that, of course.

"I wasn't even talking," she complained.

"Just get the fuck out of my car."

"You said 'fuck' twice already."

"I don't care. I just want you to get out."

Chloe scoffed at the stranger's rudeness. So instead of obeying the order, she pulled the door back to close then stubbornly leaned back, holding on to her seat firmly as if the driver would take it away from her.

"I am _not_ getting out of here."

Beca shot her a death glare which normally would be powerful enough to scare off anybody even her brother, but surprisingly, this redheaded monster simply brushed it off.

"Get out!" she ordered once more.

"You're driving me home, remember?"

"And why would I do that?"

"Because you almost hit me with your gorgeously expensive car."

"It's not my fault that you were being such a real idiot back there."

"You almost got me killed, you know!"

"But you're alive right now, right?"

"You're still driving me home. End of discussion." Chloe stuck her tongue out to Beca whose eyes burned with anger especially when the redhead decided to fold her arms over her chest and started humming a song wittingly.

_"Ooh she got you big time," Fat Amy's chuckles were heard through the earpiece._

"You're not going to back down, are you?" ignoring the sound from her earpiece, Beca gritted her teeth, clenched on the steering wheel, and fixed an evil eye on the girl unfortunately still sitting on the passenger seat of her car.

"Nope," the redhead paused from humming to give her a firm headshake.

The driver furiously leaned back to her seat and heavily sighed in defeat. She swore she hated this girl already. Left with no other choice, she drove the car back to the road and figured she would just drop this little devil off wherever she lives and be gone from her life forever.

"Where exactly do you live?" she tried to hide the eagerness to get away from the stranger.

"Phoenixville."

_"Phoenixville! That's where you're going too, Beca. Would you look at that? It's destiny. Aww."_

Beca gritted her teeth once again in great disappointment. The redhead should really be thankful that she was going the same way or else, the brunette could have easily thrown her out of the car.

"Shut up," the brunette directed the demand to both Fat Amy and the humming ginger, but much to her discontent, both happily ignored her.

* * *

"Wait! Wait!" Chloe exclaimed as they approach the gate to the subdivision. "You can drop me off here."

The redhead couldn't afford to let any of their house guards see her get out of an Aston Martin convertible at this time of the day when her boyfriend or any of her friends doesn't own such vehicle and especially when she's supposed to be inside her bedroom.

_"Good. We can't let anybody see your car enter the subdivision."_

What Chloe didn't know was that the arrangement would work for Beca as well.

"For the last time, what's your name?" the redhead curiously asked the girl seated on the driver seat who started ignoring her once again. "Come on, I just want to know."

_"Just tell her your name. It's not like you two are going to meet again anyway."_

But Beca simply muttered, "Just get out."

Chloe rolled her eyes at how stubborn the stranger really was. "Fine. But even though you were incredibly rude and eerily quiet this whole time with you, I just want to say thank you for giving me a ride."

The driver idly nodded her head without even bothering to give the girl one last look.

The redhead shook her head in utter disbelief at how the brunette had been behaving, grabbed her purse and get out of the car. All she did was to close the door and the stranger hurriedly stepped on the accelerator and drove away from her.

* * *

After some time, Beca found herself hiding behind a tree, giving a watchful eye on the tall wall separating the Beale Manor from the outside world. The fence would not allow the girl to get a peek of what was behind it so much to her dismay.

_"My time reads 8am sharp. Beale must have left the manor 10 minutes ago. You can go in, Beca."_

"What is exactly behind the wall?" she asked.

"_According to the map it's just a backyard garden with plants all over the edge. You also have a swimming pool right in the middle."_

"Do you think there might be some guards posted here?"

_"I really can't tell, Beca. I'm sorry. But I can help you with the CCTV cameras. Jesse managed to hack the system. We can manipulate them for some time so you can move."_

Beca sighed.

"Just give me the 'go' signal."

After a short while, Fat Amy instructed her to go. She looked around the premise to make sure nobody would witness what she was about to do before running towards the wall as fast as she can then pushed herself up with a stomp, hanging on to the fence until she managed to cross the border, and landed on her stomach at the side of the manor. She immediately rushed into the bushes when she caught a glimpse of a group of approaching maids.

_"Beca, are you okay?"_

"I'm in," the brunette quietly panted.

_"Okay, there are cameras in every door. Listen to me when I tell you to stop. We can't manipulate the cameras the whole time because that would seem too obvious."_

"So what shall I do now?"

_"There's a porch by the east side of the pool. You'll see a back door to the house, you can enter there."_

Again, she looked around and waited for a sign of anyone or anything approaching, she guessed the security was concentrated inside and in front of the manor. She quietly ran towards the porch, keeping her body low, and then entered the building. Her eyes widened in surprise when a wide hallway met her and the sight of guards not less than a dozen casually roaming around. She hurriedly looked for an empty room which she could hide into for the meantime. This was going to be a tougher job than she thought it would be.

* * *

"You should have called me last night. I would have come pick you up!" Aubrey scolded her best friend as they ascended the grand staircase.

"I told you I was too angry at Tom and too drunk to do that," defended the redhead.

The blonde shook her head in disapproval. "If your father finds out about this, you're dead. We're both dead, Chloe."

"Just relax," the other grinned at her confidently. "I'm here now, and my father will never find out about last night."

Aubrey sighed heavily at the statement. They continued to walk down the hallway as they make their way to Chloe's bedroom when suddenly they were stopped by no other than Clarence Beale himself. The two girls' faces turned pale in no time as if they were staring right through a ghost. The old man didn't look so happy and somehow they had the hint that something terrible was going to happen.

"Dad," the redhead forced an innocent smile on her face, and then kissed him on his cheek. "Good morning. Y-You're still here? I-I thought you have left for work already."

"And I thought you're not at home yet," the old man shot back. "You just got here?"

Aubrey buried her face lamentably on her palm realizing they were already doomed, but her bestfriend just wouldn't give up yet. She casually shrugged her shoulders and said, "I've been here practically the whole time, dad."

Clarence sighed and asked his head security, Luke, for a brown envelope. He pulled out some pictures and showed it to his daughter. They were pictures of Tom and Chloe from the previous night outside and inside the club.

"You really think I will never find out about this, Chloe?"

"Where did you get these?" Chloe snatched the pictures from her father before flashing a glare at him. "Dad, did you hire somebody to stalk me?"

Her father suddenly became quiet as he took the pictures from her and handed them to Luke with the instruction to burn them into ashes.

"I can't believe you just did that, dad."

"I can't believe you just lied to me, Chloe." Then for a brief moment, Clarence threw a glance at the blonde standing right behind his daughter and said, "And I'm very disappointed on you, Aubrey."

The young Posen lowered her head and muttered a quiet apology.

"Leave Aubrey out of this," the redhead shot a furious look at her father. "Why would you do that? Don't you trust me?"

"I trust you, alright? But not when you act like this. I told you to inform me about _all of_ your whereabouts, but you sneaked out once again and went home the next day. Perhaps, we can say this was a test and you failed, honey."

"What test?"

"You said you don't need a bodyguard and I've considered the idea. I was so close to granting such request until _this_ happened."

"I don't need a bodyguard, dad," the redhead firmly stated.

"I gave you a chance to prove that, Chloe."

Luke suddenly interrupted the argument. "Sir, they're here."

Clarence nodded his head then turned to his daughter once again. "Get yourself ready. I'll be signing some papers in my office first, and then I'll meet you at the receiving room."

Aubrey nudged her best friend, but still, Chloe did not respond.

"Are we clear, Chloe?" her father's voice sounded authoritative.

"Yes, dad,"she quietly answered before walking past her father and his bodyguards with Aubrey following closely behind her.

"And Chloe?" he called out making the two girls stopped at their tracks. "Please don't ever go back to that bar club ever again. It's for your own good, honey."

The redhead reluctantly nodded her head then proceeded to her bedroom.

* * *

Beca peeked through the small gap in between the edge of the door and the wall allowing a small amount of light to enter the dark room. She strained her eyes to scan through the hallway and observed that a guard would pass by every two minutes.

"There are fucking guards everywhere," she whispered to the hidden microphone on her jacket. "It's impossible to fucking get out of here."

Suddenly, a maid was fast approaching.

"Shit."

_"What?"_

Beca didn't even have the time to think about where to hide. She simply held her breath and hid right behind the door as it opened, blocking her from the view of the maid as well as from the camera. The light was switched on and somehow blinded her eyes but gave her the opportunity to examine the room. It was in fact a storage room for cleaning materials and some other stuff that were neatly arranged in the two shelves standing on the opposite sides. She looked up and noticed a grill on the ceiling right in the middle. But then her examination was cut short when she saw the hand of the maid reached out for the vacuum cleaner just across her. After that, the light was switched off and the door was closed leaving the storage room in complete darkness once again.

_"Beca?" _hesitantly asked by Fat Amy, her voice clearly blended with worry.

Beca whispered, "Still alive."

_"Thank goodness."_

"How far am I from the office?"

_"It's on the other side of the house, second floor._"

She sighed heavily. "Fuck this shit. Freeze the camera."

_"What are you going to do?"_

She reached for the flashlight from her left boot, switched it on, and secured it between her teeth. She held on to the shelf near her and started climbing up as quietly as possible.

_"Beca?"_

But the brunette paid all her attention to her current action.

_"Beca! Answer up!"_

This time, it was Stan's voice that blasted through her earpiece.

"I'm fine, Stan," Beca finally answered and his brother's sigh of relief was heard. "I can't get out through the door and I definitely can't stay in this room forever, so I'm resorting to the vent. I'm small enough, right? I think it can handle my weight."

_"Those two pieces of pancake you ate this morning will surely drag you down._" And Fat Amy was back.

Beca reached for the grill with her pocket knife to unscrew one side then quietly yanked it off, climbed up the edge, and struggled to pull herself up into the vent. She fitted exactly in it with her tiny stature. This will be one of those moments that she would be very thankful she didn't grow taller. Being small really has its advantage.

* * *

Chloe collapsed onto her bed, tired from the previous night, from bickering with the weird stranger who almost ran her over, and from the constant nagging her father had been giving her. Not to mention the earful she was getting from Aubrey. Nobody asked but yes, she was having a hangover as well.

"See? I told you this would happen! I told you, didn't I?" Aubrey frantically paced back and forth. "Did you see the look he gave me? He's disappointed on me, Chloe. I failed your dad. He gave me this one single task to do and I still failed him."

The redhead reached for a pillow to cover her ears, but her best friend jumped into the bed and pulled it away.

"No, Chloe. You're going to listen to me this time around. You're going to the bathroom and take some shower. God, you smell like shit." The blonde scowled as she sniffed the girl's clothing. "Now don't keep your father waiting, so get your ass off the bed and go take a shower."

Her best friend threw a quick look before burying her head back to the mattress.

"Just get your ass off the bed," Aubrey repeated the command.

"God, you sound like that creepy stranger."

"What creepy stranger?" the blonde confusingly looked down at the girl lying on the bed. When she did not respond, she hastily shook her up to prevent her from dozing off. "Chloe! Don't sleep now!"

The redhead simply groaned at her.

"Come on, stand up." Aubrey tried to pull her up, but Chloe only collapsed back to bed. "You know, you're lucky enough that he didn't ground you for life."

The redhead muttered in response, "He can't ground me. I'm 23 years old, for Christ's sake."

The blonde rolled her eyes at her best friend's remarks. She's 23 years old who demands to be treated like a 40-year-old adult but acts like a 12-year-old child. Yep, that's her best friend in the whole wide world. That's the one and only Chloe Beale.

"Just get your shit together and move, Chloe."

"You said 'shit' twice already. Would you please stop talking like the creepy stranger? She's starting to get into my nerves and she's not even here right now."

Aubrey's face curled up in confusion. "Who is this creepy stranger you've been talking about exactly? I'm starting to wonder whatever happened last night in that _Pandemonium_ place. Get up and spill it out."

"You're not going to trick me into getting up, Posen."

"I swear, Beale, if you don't get up now, I'm going home. I have no face to show your father today because of your stupidity."

The redhead ignored the comment and hugged the pillow lying close to her. True enough, the blonde shook her head in surrender and started to head for the door.

"Call me when you're ready to talk, will 'ya? And _please_ take a shower."

* * *

Beca quietly crawled her way through the vent of the second floor. It wasn't the most convenient position she had ever been, but it was far more convenient than feeding herself to the packs of security guards posted all over the house. So she patiently wiped off the beads of sweat all over her face.

_"This is too quiet. It's getting pretty boring."_

"Well, my life is kind of at stake here."

_"I miss your chick."_

"What?"

_"I don't mean Stacie, alright? I would have said 'your fuck buddy' if I meant her."_

Beca shook her head at such non-sense.

_"Don't you miss her?"_

She chose to ignore the question as she struggled to keep quiet with her entire body in constant contact with the noise-producing material.

_"Beca!"_

"What?" she hissed at the microphone.

_"I asked if you miss her."_

"Who the fuck are we talking about?"

_"The chatty stranger you almost ran over. I like it when she forces you to talk because nobody has ever done that, you know. We're all surprise that you didn't kill her actually, like, literally kill her."_

But the brunette wasn't even listening to her earpiece anymore. She basically focused her mind into crawling quietly through the vent because her life depended on it quite frankly.

_"Stop! The office is right below you!"_

_ Finally_, Beca thought. She crawled towards the nearest grill and looked down and allowed herself to inspect the room first. She knew something's not right when she saw a group of men in black suits taking a coffee break. One suddenly looked up to her, and she had reflexively moved back.

"Give me a hand, man," she heard a husky voice say. "I think I saw something up there."

"Shit." In the quietest manner possible, she hurriedly moved to search for another grill. "Freeze the cameras, I'm going down."

_"Freezing the cameras."_

Beca forced to open the grill to the next room which turned out to be a library. She didn't care if somebody was in there. She needed to get off the vent really soon. It's easier to run and dodge bullets on the ground while they could easily kill her in the vent. Her feet struggled to reach for the nearest bookshelf, one of the many disadvantages of being small. Just a split second before the guard's head popped out, Beca neatly pushed the cover into place, leaving no room for suspicion.

_"Are you okay?"_

She quietly jumped off the shelf and started to walk around, careful not to get caught. "Yes."

_"Right now you are at what is supposedly the library. It's supposed to be adjacent to the office."_

"I'm in the library, okay? But that wasn't the office, Fat Amy," she hissed at the hidden device. "That was a freaking lounge for the fucking security guards!"

_"Wow. Beale turned his office into a trap. Anybody who would walk into the room thinking it was the office will surely meet his doomsday in a second."_

"But I can't go back up the vent at the moment. I have a pack of wolves right in the next room."

_"You need to go to the third floor, west wing. Jesse said the most rational place to transfer the office is right next to Beale's room. That way his guards are securing two important rooms at night at the same time."_

"Freeze the cameras in the hallway then. This time I'm climbing up through the elevator."

_"Freezing."_

Beca took a peak at the hallway. The coast was clear, so she pulled the door open and walked out.

"Excuse me, Miss?"

She froze in place upon hearing someone calling out from behind. Apparently, the coast wasn't as clear as she thought. The sound was at least a modest female voice so she assumed it's not one of the guards. Better.

_"Who was that?"_

Beca let out a sigh then slowly turned around to face the person who turned out to be a maid.

"Can I help you?" asked the maid.

_Yeah, if you could just leave me alone_, she thought.

"Oh you must be one of those men in black suits," the maid nodded her head in recognition, eyeing Beca's black shirt, black leather jacket, black pants, and black boots. "I bet you were a bit lost in here. It's a pretty big house, I still get lost sometimes too." She let out a quick laugh. "Here, I'll direct you back to the receiving room." The maid led the way and Beca, though still a little shaken, had no other choice but to follow. "I heard Mr. Beale is on his way to meet you."

Oh she's dead; she's really dead this time.

_"Mr. Beale? Clarence Beale? He's in the house?"_

The sense of terror rushed through Fat Amy's voice, but Beca couldn't respond to confirm the news. That would explain the number of guards and the tight security in the house the whole time.

_"Abort mission. Abort. Stan's on his way with the backup. Just stay put, Beca. I repeat, abort mission."_

Still, Beca couldn't respond. It would be too obvious if she starts talking along the silent journey to the receiving room. She figured she would play the game with the maid, for as long as everybody presumed that she's one of the 'men in black suits' she's still safe.

The maid directed her to the many twists and turns of the hallways while she listened to Fat Amy's anxious breathing until they finally reached the receiving room. She was asked to stand in line right at the door behind a brusque man in a black suit before the maid left. The man shot her a questioning look, but she stared back just as tough as if his height and size weren't a threat to her at all.

The door suddenly opened revealing a good-looking man with blonde hair and again in a black suit. In a perfect British accent, he commanded, "Come in."

Beca had no choice but to follow in. Though she can, she shouldn't start a riot that very moment. It would have been a disaster.

There must be five brusque men in black suits in the line, and their number increased as she looked around the room, but Beca stayed as calm as possible. She followed the sudden horizontal line formation and stopped right next to the same man in black suit. Then, she was staring at the eyes of the enemy, Clarence Beale. She mentally scoffed at him for being an ignorant to the presence of an enemy in herself. She could have easily killed the man.

"You?"

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by that familiarly annoying voice now laced with surprise and utter disbelief. She shifted her eyes from the man with ginger hair to the young woman sitting next to him. Beca matched the same level of surprise and utter disbelief, or even higher, when she met those bright blue eyes and red locks she had sworn she would never see again.

* * *

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Pitch Perfect.


	4. Bodyguard

_Thank you so much for all the good reviews, people. They keep me motivated to do this series. But I'm kind of experiencing a writer's block right now, I know it really sucks. So just a warning, I really can't tell if this chapter is good enough. I tried my very best. And I'm sorry if I'm not able to post updates sooner. I still hope you do enjoy reading :) *Lines completely italicized are still Fat Amy's unless mentioned otherwise, just in case, you've forgotten :)_

* * *

CHAPTER FOUR: **Bodyguard**

Everybody turned to look at the redhead equally surprised at Chloe's sudden reaction to the presence of the men whose one of them would potentially be her future personal bodyguard. Beca took this opportunity to pull herself back together and flashed her usual straight face.

"You okay, honey?" Clarence questioned his daughter, a little worried.

"Y-Yeah," the younger Beale stuttered along with a small nod of her head and forced a smile on her face. "Um, I-I mean… I choose _her_, dad."

"What?"

Confused by the usage of such pronoun, Clarence turned to the men lined up in front of him and so did Luke and the rest of the security group. Indeed, the sixth member of the finalists was a girl in a black leather jacket, black inner shirt, black pants, and black boots. He abruptly turned to the head of security, "Luke, what is this girl doing here?"

Beca fought the urge to roll her eyes at how sexist these people were.

"Sir, I don't-"

Before Luke could say another word, Chloe put a hand on her father's arm and pleadingly said, "You want to hire me a bodyguard, right, dad? Let me choose, please?"

"_Was that who I think she is?" _

Fat asked in an utter disbelief making her partner instantly remember that she had an earpiece sitting on her left ear.

Clarence sighed. It was bad enough that his daughter had hated him for this decision especially with their little argument earlier that morning. This time he would back down and nod his head in agreement. "Okay. You choose."

"I choose her," she repeated, briefly pointing at the creepy stranger, trying hard to hide the mischievous smirk on her lips.

"But," her father started in hesitation, "can she protect you? She's really small… and she's a girl."

"Paul, escort her out now," Luke ordered one of his men who automatically walked towards the brunette. As soon as he rested his hand on her shoulder, as a result of how many years in training, Beca felt alarmed and guarded. Instinct told her to reach for her knife and stab him right in his chest, but something told her that it would have been a bad idea. So instead, she grabbed his hand, pulled it powerfully down to his side with a twist causing the brusque man to unwillingly somersault in the air ending with his back on the floor with a loud thud. The man clenched onto his shoulder in pain as everybody turned to the stranger in surprise with a mixture of fright.

"Yes!" Chloe happily clapped her hands together. "She can totally protect me, dad."

Still, Clarence was hesitant about his daughter's sudden decision. He fixed a serious look on his face as he interrogated the brunette.

"What's your name?"

The creepy stranger maintained her blank expression while Chloe leaned back on the couch quietly waiting for the answer to the question. She started to wonder if the girl would finally answer the question because she tried and tried during their previous encounter only to fail in the end.

"Mr. Beale asked you a question," Luke reminded the brunette in a tough tone. Still, she did not respond.

Clarence Beale repeated, "What is your name?"

"Beca Mi-"

"_Stop! You can't tell him you're a Mitchell. They'll kill you in a second."_

"Surname, please?"

_What the hell_, Beca thought. There are millions of surnames in the world. What would she tell them? Suddenly, she heard a muffled loud bickering on her earpiece. It was between Stan and Jesse.

"_Stan insists on Bryant after his basketball hero. Jesse suggests his name, Swanson."_

Bryant, Swanson. Bryant, Swanson. Beca allowed the bickering to get into her head as she tried to make a choice between the two options. She could see the impatience and suspicion growing on Beale's face so she realized she had to figure this out fast.

"My name is Beca…" she trailed off. "Branson. Beca Branson."

She just couldn't decide, so her brain simply combined the names together and had her mouth blurt it out.

"_Beca Branson?"_

"Beca Branson," Clarence memorized the name. "Where did you train?"

"Chinese Academy for Martial Arts," she lied. She wondered if that made up institution actually existed.

"_Okay, so I guess we need to create a new profile for you, Beca Branson."_

Chloe who greatly needed to nurse her hangover turned to her father and said, "Just hire her, dad. I think she has already proven that she's qualified for the job."

"Job?" Beca croaked.

"Your job here is to be my daughter's bodyguard," Clarence firmly stated. "You will be responsible for her safety and directly answerable to me. Tell me if she bribes you into leaving her alone, I'll double it. You'll meet Kimmy Jin later, she's her executive assistant, and she will be discussing with you other matters including your contract. For now, what I need you to do is to stay with my daughter. Stay with her all the time, that's your primary job. Stay with her and keep her safe 24/7."

"And then you're hired," his daughter finished, grinning wildly at her newly-hired bodyguard who deliberately ignored her. The redhead stood up from her seat and marched towards the former creepy stranger and dragged her away with her. "You can leave for work now, dad. I can manage to brief my bodyguard."

Speechless, Clarence simply sat right there and watched his daughter walked out of the door with Beca Branson.

* * *

Beca struggled to maintain a straight face with the annoyance growing inside her as she followed the hopping redhead down the hallway. She mentally recalled how she ended up with this too cheerful of a person again and again. Worse, she had to remind herself to play bodyguard to save her own life as long as she's locked up in the territory of a dangerous enemy.

"Beca, Beca, Beca." Chloe mockingly repeated the name, throwing quick glances at the brunette. "Who'd have thought that after you drove off this morning you'd still end up to me anyway?"

_"I feel the sudden need to remind you that you can't kill her, Beca."_

Beca sighed and resorted to ignoring the redhead.

"Really?" Chloe stopped to look at her and put her hands on her hips. "You're still giving me that silent treatment?"

The brunette simply flashed her best unresponsive expression.

"Do I need to remind you that I'm your boss now?" the young heiress posted a threatening look on her face.

_"She saved your life, I might add."_

Beca scoffed. Quite frankly, she didn't care if she got to be fired. She didn't need this job. She just needed to assure that she could leave the manor alive. And there's nothing this ginger could do to change that perspective.

"Now this is my room." She finally stopped at a pink door with flowers and butterflies everywhere on it. Beca noticed an electronic keypad on the wall next to it. "First thing you need to know is that all important rooms here have automated locks. You need a password to get in. My dad installed this security system right after he got back."

"What's your password?" the bodyguard suddenly asked, clearly interested, and so her boss threw a questioning look at her, surprised as to why it suddenly made the brunette speak up. "For security reasons."

The redhead shrugged her shoulders and casually showed Beca her password as she punched it in, "94214."

_"Noted."_

"Wait for me here," Chloe instructed before entering the bedroom. She marched towards the bed and started undressing. With her father asking for her presence immediately after Aubrey's departure, she didn't have the time to take a shower earlier. She pulled her dress up her head leaving her only in her lacy underwear. She pulled her hair up and then tied the strands together into a messy bun. She then turned around and squealed in surprise to meet those deep blue eyes staring directly at her body.

"_What happened there, Beca?"_

"What are you doing here?" the ginger screamed at the woman standing expressionless in front of her as she hurriedly covered her almost naked body with the dress. "I told you to wait outside!"

Beca shrugged and said, "Your dad said to stay with you all the time. 24/7, in fact."

Chloe gasped.

"And you're taking that seriously and literally?"

The bodyguard simply kept a straight face.

"I'm going to take a shower," the redhead slowly spoke hoping that the newly-hired bodyguard would get the point, but to her dismay, the brunette simply stayed in her position.

"_Is it just me or did I really hear a 'shower' somewhere in that sentence?"_

Chloe sighed heavily to calm herself. She held the dress tightly close to her body as she fixed an authoritative look on the brunette. "I said I'm going to take a shower. What do you think are you supposed to do?"

"Your dad said to stay with you all the time. 24/7, in fact," Beca repeated. "I guess that means I'm going to the bathroom with you."

"Get out!"

"I don't recall you getting out of my car when I asked you."

Chloe glared at her, "Are you trying to get back at me?"

The other kept her mouth shut.

"If you are, then unfortunately for you, you weren't the boss of me when you asked me to get out of the car. But now, I'm your boss, and I order you to get out of my room and you have no other choice but to obey me, understand?"

But Beca remained in her place causing the redhead to furiously put her hands on her hips forgetting the dress she was holding up to cover her body. As a result, the dress fell on the floor and the brunette ogled directly into the redhead's bare skin accidentally displayed in front of her. Chloe frantically picked the dress up from the floor and covered herself once more, and this time she desperately resorted to pushing her bodyguard out of the room.

"Just so you know," the shorter woman turned around to face her boss causing them both to stop. "I'm gay."

"_Why are you telling her that?"_

The confession made the redhead to widen her eyes and flush at the realization that those deep blue eyes lingered around her almost naked body possibly with cruel intentions.

"And I've seen a lot of better bodies than yours," she indifferently added. "I wouldn't necessarily call dibs on you."

Feeling insulted, Chloe's face turned as red as her locks in complete frustration before screaming into Beca's face, "You are _so_ fired."

Without even realizing, Beca couldn't help but genuinely smirk in amusement. Truth be told, it was the first time she ever did in her entire life.

* * *

Beca Mitchell rested her feet on top of the table as she leaned back on her chair at the _Pandemonium - _the headquarters of The Secret Society. She lit up the cigarette stick in between her lips, inhaled, and then purposely puffed the smokes towards Fat Amy who frantically whacked them away from her face in disgust.

"That is so fucking rude, Beca." The blonde glared at the small woman who only stared blankly at her in response.

"Here." Stan placed a bottle of beer next to Beca's feet for her before sliding next to Fat Amy on the couch.

"I still can't believe you actually made it," Jesse shook his head in disbelief. "I surely thought they'll catch you and feed you to tigers."

Fat Amy smirked at the brunette. "Thanks to the chatty stranger."

_Not that crazy little monster again_, Beca thought. She just can't admit to herself that the redhead actually saved her life. Everybody would have questioned her presence inside the house or probably kill her on the spot, but all of it was long forgotten when the crazy redhead suddenly decided to hire her as a bodyguard. Beca seriously thought she'd never see the redhead for more than a single encounter and it irritated her so much when their paths crossed once again. She saved her or not, Beca didn't give a shit.

"We didn't find the stolen treasure however," Stan pointed out.

"We'll have to go back to the manor," Jesse proposed. "This time we need to carefully plan everything out. For the meantime, Beca could team up with Fat Amy in re-mapping the house on the computer while I gather the other necessary information."

"What about me?" Stan asked.

"Your task is to monitor the physical security system of Beale," Jesse answered. "That would really help us plot Beca's moves."

Stan nodded his head understandingly, but the bewilderment became evident on his gorgeous face. "Will this report satisfy Phil?"

They all exchanged looks. Phil hated failed missions. Well, it didn't entirely fail. They managed to extract significant information about Beale and the manor, but no sign of the treasure yet. Okay, so it's a failed mission.

"Have any of you seen Stacie?" the brunette suddenly inquired which her companions replied with a shake of the head. She let out a heavy sigh and finished her bottle of beer in one gulp. "I'm out of here."

"Where are you going?"

"I need somebody to fuck."

"I can be your wingman," Stan excitedly raised his hand in the air as he hurriedly stood up from his seat.

"Then I'm coming too." Fat Amy quickly followed the duo towards the door.

Jesse hesitantly watched his friends go. He figured making a protest won't be acknowledged anyway so he settled to sink down on his seat and shook his head in defeat. "I guess I'll have to face Phil all by myself."

* * *

"Bodyguard, meet my best friend, Aubrey. Aubrey, meet my new bodyguard."

Chloe greeted her best friend with an impassive expression on her face while Aubrey robotically ran her eyes over the man in a black suit with matching black sunglasses standing right behind the redhead. He briefly offered a slight bow before looking straight ahead.

"Nah," Aubrey squinted her eyes. "Luke is still hotter. _Way_ hotter."

Chloe threw a glare at the blonde. "I think you're missing the point here, Aubrey. Newsflash: I do have a bodyguard now."

"If this man is at least as hot as Luke, then I'm sure you wouldn't be complaining like this." The Posen heiress didn't even make the effort to keep her voice down. She simply sneered at her best friend, ignoring the fact that the subject of her sentence was standing right in the room with them.

"I hate my life right now," the redhead sighed. "My dad's making all these crazy decisions about my life and I don't even have a say about them."

"Aww, that's cute."

"Well, I had the chance to," she trailed off, suddenly remembering the crazy brunette known to be Beca Branson who was supposed to be her new bodyguard. _Where could she be right now_, she wondered.

"What do you mean?" Aubrey asked curiously.

Chloe didn't even notice the smile growing on her lips, "Dad let me choose and I chose this one crazy girl."

"Girl?"

"Remember that creepy stranger I was telling you about?"

"Oh yeah! You haven't told me that story yet."

Chloe excitedly shifted her entire body towards her best friend. "She accidentally almost ran over me when I was getting out of that club. I coerced her to drive me home, but she was really _really_ eerily quiet and had some serious attitude problem that we spent the entire ride bickering. I thought I'd never see her again, but guess what? She was one of them! She applied for the job, and I chose her to be my bodyguard."

"So where is she?" the blonde frantically looked around.

"Um," her best friend bit her lower lip. "I kind of fired her already… after her first thirty minutes on duty."

Aubrey raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the sudden course of event. "What happened?"

Chloe paused for a moment. She wondered if she should tell the entire story. Really, it wasn't the fact that Beca Branson had her eyes snaked on her exposed skin that she had to fire her. It was that time when she said she'd seen better bodies and that she didn't find her just as attractive as the other girls. It hurt her chest to hear the brunette say all that to her. Chloe didn't know why, but it was as if every opinion from Beca started to matter to her. Then, she started wondering the possibilities of their paths crossing once again.

"Earth back to Chloe," Aubrey snapped.

The redhead shook her head to brush off the thoughts in her mind. "I'm sorry, what?"

The blonde rolled her eyes and asked, "What's going on in that head of yours, huh?"

"I was just thinking," Chloe trailed off, then hopefully turned to her best friend. "Do you think I'll ever see her again? I mean, like, for one more instance, do you think I'll ever see her again?"

"Who?"

"Beca Branson."

"Who the hell is Beca Branson?"

"The creepy stranger."

Aubrey opened her mouth but didn't know exactly what to respond until she simply sighed. Shaking her head, she answered, "I don't know, Chloe."

And the redhead started thinking about it once again. Their paths crossed once more just when she thought she'd never see the stranger ever for the rest of her life. Maybe that meant something. Maybe, just maybe, it could happen again. It happened once, so why not for one more time?

"Do you still want to answer my question?" Aubrey suddenly popped her best friend's bubble of thoughts.

"What?"

"What happened?" the blonde questioned impatiently. "Why did you fire her immediately?"

Chloe shrugged, "Let's just say she was really really rude."

"If that's the case, she deserves to be fired. We'll just have to stick to Mr. Bodyguard over here." The blonde woman briefly looked over to the quiet man in black suit and shot him a wink before looking back to the redhead. "By the way, have you talked to your boyfriend?"

She let out a heavy sigh and lowered her head. "Tom doesn't reply to my messages. He doesn't answer my calls or return them. Maybe he's avoiding me, I don't know."

"Bad Tom!" Aubrey exclaimed with her hands rapidly rested on her hips. "Break up with him already. I've been telling you that, Chloe."

"No," the redhead shook her head firmly in disagreement. "I love him."

"Bullshit."

Chloe glared at her best friend.

"Fine," the blonde gasped.

"Tom's just being… Tom, you know. Give him some time to prove something."

"Oh he's already proven me something, alright? He's a jerk! The _biggest_ jerk in town."

"Aubrey!" Chloe groaned.

"Okay, I'll stop now." The young Posen calmed herself. "But I was just being honest, okay? You're my best friend and I don't want anyone hurting you."

"Come on, let's just go hang out at the outdoor pool."

The blonde excitedly linked her arm with Chloe's, forgetting instantly what she was furious about, and then dragged her red-haired best friend towards the pool with the man in black suit quietly trailing behind them like a guard dog.

* * *

Beca let herself in the Green Room. Jesse, Fat Amy, and Stan were all already there with Phil. Her father was seated on his chair, his face didn't look so happy while the other three had their heads slightly bowed down. Beca could tell that good news had no space in this room.

"Finally, you decided to come join us," was Phil's not-so-welcoming remarks. She stood next to her brother on the horizontal line facing her father. It felt like being in the Receiving Room of the Beale manor once again except that the absence of the crazy redhead was on display.

"Where's the treasure?"

"We're still working on it," she quietly replied.

"Work on it fast!"

Beca could only nod her head while the rest of her team swallowed the lumps on their respective throats in fear.

Phil slammed some papers on the table then looked intently on the team before him. "These are financial reports and progress reports on our health and education programs for the previous year. Just so you know they are _not_ good. They're getting worse and worse every single day. We lost a lot of money when Beale left the organization. He was undeniably contributing a lot with his wealth. Unfortunately, our businesses can't sustain the needs in the long run. Before we know it, we will be running out of funds. We already failed to deliver services to as much as 10% of our beneficiaries last year. I am _not_ happy about this."

The other three lowered their heads even more, but Beca looked straight into her father's eyes and asked, "What shall we do then?"

"Find the treasure," Phil answered. "Find it and we'll go back to normal."

"I said we're working on it."

The older Mitchell shook his head in disagreement. "I have a better plan."

All four of them exchanged looks in confusion.

"You're going undercover, Beca." Phil flashed a mischievous grin. "I heard about your little adventure in Beale's manor. Go get that bodyguard job back. That way you can get as close to the enemy as possible without him even realizing. _Plus_, you have his daughter's life in your hands, and you can get a wider access as to where the treasure is. It's like hitting two birds with one stone."

Beca swore she could just scream out in utter frustration. No! She's not going to work as a bodyguard for that little red-haired monster. That's totally unfair.

"Stan could do it," she calmly suggested. "All other security guards in there are guys anyway."

"You've been doing as much sex as guys do anyway," her father shot back and the other three stiffed a laugh earning themselves a special death glare from the brunette. "I expect you to fix that _fucking_ door you broke, by the way."

Beca simply pursed her lips in response.

"And Stan," Phil turned to his son. "Beca's other missions will be reassigned to you for the meantime. Expect more assassination and theft operations. We need to earn more money for funds."

Stan smiled at the 'promotion'. He could see Beca's exasperated face through his peripheral view, and that felt even better. He'll be doing a lot more adventure while his sister will be stuck in one job for a while.

"Um, sir?" Jesse nervously raised his hand and the big boss automatically turned towards his direction. "They already hired a new bodyguard for Beale's daughter."

The oldest Mitchell chuckled at Jesse's news in complete amusement. Jesse found this matter a problem, but Phil simply thought it was a trivial matter they didn't even need to discuss about. "You know what to do, people. Get him out of the way."

Jesse must be flashing this confused look on his face because then Phil made it all clear for him. "Kill him."

* * *

Chloe Beale opened her eyes, awake for another brand new day in her life. She turned to her side and reached for her cellphone lying peacefully on the bedside table. Still no text or call from Tom. She let herself frown for a moment until she realized there was something she needed to rejoice about. For some reason, her father instructed her the previous day that her new bodyguard won't be reporting for duty anymore. She needed to be happy about this, so she smiled at her freedom regained. She sat up, closed her eyes in delight as she stretched her arms wide. She turned her head towards the window, and had to scream out loud in utter surprise when she found Beca Branson standing quietly inside the room.

_"Ah, the chatty stranger is now awake." _

Fat Amy's chuckles were heard through the earpiece sitting on Beca's left ear while another earpiece, the more visible one, connected to Beale's security system was hanging on her right ear.

"What are you doing here?" the heiress screamed at the brunette who responded with a blank stare. Furiously, she jumped out of bed and marched towards the uninvited guest. "I fired you already, remember? What are you still doing here?"

_"More screams in the morning. Nice."_

Beca lowered her gaze just a little to take a glance at the redhead's body with much delight. That's when it hit Chloe that she was still wearing her lacy nightgown. She hurriedly hugged herself blocking the view from the brunette.

"Still not calling dibs on you," she muttered.

The redhead shot her a glare. "Get out of here or I'll call my _new _bodyguard."

But Beca remained still in her position.

"I'm telling you, Branson. One push of a button and the bodyguard will be here in a rush."

The other simply tilted her head mockingly as if challenging the redhead. Chloe hurried to the nearest landline then dialed '0' and somebody immediately answered her call.

"I need security in my room now," she ordered.

"Your bodyguard is right in your room, Miss Beale."

Chloe's face contorted in confusion as she abruptly looked over at Beca who simply stared back at her. Bodyguard right in her room? That couldn't be right.

"Is Branson not enough? Do I need to send you more guards, Miss?"

Then, she couldn't respond immediately in disbelief.

"Miss Beale?"

"I'm fine," she quickly answered. "N-No need to send additional security. Thank you."

She slowly hung up the phone and then turned to Beca. She carefully reached for the blanket lying sloppily on her bed and covered her entire body. Then, she found herself engaged in a staring contest against the one and only Beca Branson.

_"This is going to be epic," _Fat Amy laughs.

Beca only sighed heavily feeling her time being wasted with every moment passed. She should have been in some other mission, but instead, she's stuck in this manor trying to protect the girl. It still irritated her to no end at how stupid Clarence Beale was for rehiring her to be his daughter's bodyguard. He'll be paying her to protect this redhead from the enemy who was quite frankly the same person.

"You?" was all Chloe could utter. The brunette replied with a slow nod.

_"And she finally realized!"_

Chloe sheepishly muttered, "But I fired you already."

"Your father needed to reinstate me."

"That only means…"

"I'll be staying with you all the time. 24/7, in fact," Beca finished the sentence for her new boss.

_"Ah, that's right. Sweet."_

"Unfortunately," she quickly added.

Then, the redhead slowly curved her lips into a mischievous smirk, an idea clearly popped in her mind in an instant. Beca started to hypothesize that she's not going to like the idea at all.

"First things first," Chloe started. "We'll have to establish that _I'm_ your boss and that means _you_ need to respect me and start obeying all my orders."

_"Oh, she's got you under her now, Beca Mitchell."_

"Are we clear?"

Beca could only sigh as a response.

"Good," the redhead let out a victorious smile. "First order: since you insist on barging into my room, you need to greet me _cheerfully_ when I wake up in the morning."

_"Now I want to hear that."_

Just like that, Beca fought all the urge and craving to kill the woman standing in front of her.

"I just woke up. What do you say?"

The brunette balled her fists and gritted her teeth as she watched the smirk on Chloe's lips growing more and more. She needed the job and so left with no other choice. Defeated and along with all her rage, she struggled to open her mouth and mumbled, "Good morning."

"Aww," Chloe wittily ridiculed. "So cute."

* * *

_I guess this chapter was good enough. Not my best, but it was okay, right? What do you, guys, think? I'll make it up to you on the next chapter anyway. I promise :)_


	5. Cricket

_Now with 64 followers and 20 reviews for the last chapter alone. Wow, guys. I guess I should experience a writer's block more often! LOL. Kidding aside, the least I could do is say a million thanks to all of you :)_

_And so to a very dear fan of mine (Yes! I do have a fan now!): **PATRICIA ELIANA CORTES, HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Enjoy your day! Greetings from The Secret Society. Your friend, gleekathoner, loves you so much :) This chapter is for you.**.. and for all the readers who have been seriously waiting for an update :)_

* * *

CHAPTER FIVE: **Cricket**

With that 24/7 duty requirement, Beca Mitchell _disguised_ as Beca 'The Bodyguard' Branson patiently watched over Chloe Beale while the young heiress went for a run around the subdivision, ate her breakfast, then waited in the bedroom as she took a shower and up until she decided she's prepared for the day ahead. But it wasn't enough that she had to work as the bodyguard, Chloe demanded that she should be her personal driver as well so that when they made their way to the Phoenix Day Care Center for a scheduled book reading, the redhead talked endlessly knowing so well it's going to get into Beca's nerves. Much to the brunette's dismay, she had nothing to do about it.

"Don't you have any other clothes?" Chloe asked as she sat at the back of the car, eyeing yet another full black attire of her bodyguard-slash-driver.

Beca simply looked back at her through the rear view mirror as a response.

_At least she didn't ignore me_, the redhead thought before throwing in another question.

"So what made you apply for the job?"

Again, the other answered by peeking through the rear view mirror.

"Hey! I thought we already established that I'm the boss here!" complained by the redhead. "You're being unfair, Branson."

_"Just answer her already," _Fat Amy orders.

So Beca let out a deep sigh and replied to her new boss, "I need this job."

"Please. I own a Range Rover, your car is an Aston Martin!" the other exclaimed. "Why would you need a job like this if you could afford such a luxury?"

"I don't own the car," Beca lied. In fact, it was the only possession she had aside from her pocket knife, a small flashlight, cigarette packs and lighters, and some sets of clothes which were frankly similar to each other - the usual black leather jackets, black shirts, black pants, and that black boots.

"You intentionally wrecked its audio system and you don't own it?"

"I just said I don't own it, right?"

"Well, did you steal it or something? 'Cause that's something you're undoubtedly capable of doing."

Beca took another quick glance through the rear view mirror, this time a death glare was affixed on her eyes as the redhead sported that annoyingly wicked grin.

_"If she knew you're also capable of killing people, I'm pretty sure she'll shut her shit by now."_

Chloe opened her mouth to speak again but was immediately cut off by the driver hurriedly changing the gear then stepping hard on the accelerator causing the car to abruptly run in full speed. The redhead fearfully held on to anything she could and screamed.

"Slow down! You'll go past the speed limit!"

But frankly, the bodyguard-slash-chauffeur didn't care at all. She was going for it and the ginger had no other choice but to enjoy the ride and pray to all souls and saints that they make it to the Day Care alive.

* * *

"_Hello! _whispered a praying mantis, scraping its huge front legs together.  
The little cricket wanted to answer, so he rubbed his wings together.  
But nothing happened. Not a sound."

It was definitely a piece of cake for someone as blithe as Chloe Beale to turn one of the most boring children's book into something interesting and entertaining for the toddlers and surprisingly, even for Beca Mitchell who mindfully stood behind the story teller. She would never admit it, but somehow she found herself liking the book reading session and was secretly amused by the look of interest on the faces of the children.

"Then he rubbed his wings together one more time.  
And this time…  
… he chirped the most beautiful sound that she had ever heard."

Chloe finished reading _A Very Quiet Cricket by Eric Carle, _and as if the ending went like a prince charming lifting the tragic curse off his princess or a knight in shining armor triumphantly saving the fallen kingdom, the toddlers erupted in applause and the redhead couldn't help but giggle at the minor adoration from her little fans while her bodyguard maintained yet another straight face on her own.

_"She can use that as a speech and I'd still vote for her as President of the United States of America," _Fat Amy's voice rang through the hidden ear piece.

Beca grunted unconvincingly.

Suddenly, one of the toddlers eagerly shot his hand up in the air. The redhead turned her attention to him and he quickly posted his question, "But why is she standing right over there doing nothing?"

She followed his gaze and found Beca caught off guard, her usual blank expression stained with confusion and discomfort as everybody else in the room paid their attention to the bodyguard. Such a thing never happened before. She's not used to standing in the middle of a spotlight, and certainly not fond by the idea of it. But then, her boss smiled at her optimistically and answered the kid's question, "Oh she's our mascot, kids... the best mascot, indeed. She's the best example of a very quiet _cricket_."

Beca shot her a look for calling her a cricket, but the redhead simply winked at her before returning her attention to her adorable audience. The brunette didn't notice, but her jaw slightly dropped and her breathing stopped for a moment due to the brief gesture her boss just made towards her. It was different from any other wink she received before. It was different from that of Stan's you-know-what-I-mean wink or Fat Amy's you're-getting-laid-tonight wink, and not even close from the I-want-you-to-fuck-me wink she would always get from Stacie. That one single unexpected wink from Chloe made her feel something she was so sure she never felt before, let alone aware that she's capable of feeling. It was at least soothing yet very unfamiliar that it disturbed Beca to the core.

* * *

Chloe reached for her water bottle for a long drink after her dance class then hastily put her things into her pink gym bag. Her best friend silently followed her every move with her own pair of eyes.

"Someone's in a hurry," the blonde pointed out her observation.

"What?" the redhead turned around for a quick glance at her best friend, "No. I'm just…" then she paused to come up with a label for whatever she's doing ending with a shrug, "I'm just getting ready to leave… as usual."

And a smirk was suddenly plastered on the young Posen's lips.

"Is Tom picking you up today?"

"No," the other quietly answered with a frown. "He hasn't tried to contact me yet since that night at the club." And before her best friend could feel sorry for her, she rapidly added, "But I'm sure he'll call me soon."

Chloe flashed a quick forced smile which she had to learn from the relationship, and then grabbed her bag for her exit. Aubrey sighed to herself as she shook her head disapprovingly. Obviously, Mr. Thomas Jacobs, or Jerk Tom in her vocabulary, had been acting like, well, a jerk as always. It definitely annoyed her to death that for some stupid reason, her best friend chose him, of all people, to be her boyfriend. She was more than willing to give her heart to him only to be constantly ignored. Chloe wouldn't admit it, but she's certainly hurt. Still, she would keep her head up and keep waiting for him to come to his senses... which probably won't happen any time in the near future. The only ending for this relationship would be a break up. Well, Tom will never initiate that idea because that would mean losing the perks of being the boyfriend of the daughter of one of the richest man in America. Chloe should, but of course, she won't.

"Maybe he lied when he said-"

Chloe immediately cut her off, "No! He wouldn't do that. Tom gave me his word so he's not going to fuck that up. He _knows_ how important that _promise_ is to me."

Yeah, _that_ promise was so important to Chloe that Aubrey wouldn't even dare to argue about this entire absurd relationship with Tom. So what the blonde did was to simply trail behind her best friend, agonizing the thought about that particular decision she had no right to make.

"So who's picking you up?" she asked, trying to ease the bad mood floating in the atmosphere.

But to her surprise, the redhead became suddenly re-energized.

"My bodyguard."

"Wait," she furrowed her eyebrow in confusion. "When did you become so excited about having a bodyguard?"

"Since Beca Branson came back for duty!"

The blonde rolled her eyes and commented, "She's rude. I don't like her."

"It's just part of the _attitude_, Aubrey. Come on, don't let her get into you. Shoot back at her and you should see how priceless is that irritated look on her face. It's so much fun!"

Chloe chuckled in amusement but her best friend grimaced in annoyance.

"She's rude and she smells like cigarette."

"She doesn't."

The blonde stopped them both and pointed onto her nose.

"You know the power of these nostrils, Chloe. Trust me when I say she smokes cigarettes."

But before Chloe could argue back, the woman in question appeared in front of them, reaching for her boss' gym bag so she could carry it for her. She shifted her eyes towards Aubrey with a blank expression, her very own version of a courtesy greeting which the tall blonde woman replied with a snort. The redhead chuckled at the duo before wrapping her best friend with a goodbye hug and then followed Beca towards her black and white Range Rover while the miniature bodyguard reported to her superior through the visible communication device hanging on her right ear.

Later on, on their way to a coffee shop per Chloe's order, the young heiress sat quietly at the backseat completely preoccupied with her best friend's theory. Such sudden behavior was rather too uncommon even for Beca that she would even make the effort of checking on her once in a while through the rear view mirror. The brunette knew that she should have been feeling very thrilled that the redheaded monster finally quit talking, but that look of distress on her face was making so much of an impact on her. She dreaded to find out what could be the reason behind such peculiar behavior, but because she's a very quiet cricket after all, she wouldn't dare to ask. Thankfully though, after a few more minutes, her inaudible boss finally spoke her mind.

"Aubrey thinks you smoke."

And then Beca was back to brushing her off again.

"Well, do you?"

The driver sighed heavily, typically annoyed by another demand from her boss, and then ultimately, reached into the breast pocket of her black leather jacket. She pulled something out and offered it to Chloe without taking her eyes away from the road. It was in no doubt a cigarette stick. She waited for the other woman to grab it from her grip, but the redhead only smashed it away causing the item to fall off from the grip. Beca was then torn between concentrating on her driving and salvaging the cigarette stick. It's important to her. She paid for it!

_"Whatever happened there just keep your eyes on the road!"_

Fat Amy's order made her stick to her initial decision, but that didn't stop the small woman from shooting evil glares at her redheaded passenger. Well, she should have not asked if she's just going to smack it away. _Stupid, rich heiress!_

"There are two things I definitely can't tolerate," the boss then spoke out. "First is silent treatment... but with you constantly doing it, I might get used to it, to be honest. But the second one, the one I will _never_ tolerate at all, Branson, is smoking. Aubrey and I hate the smell of it."

"_Is it just me or she's asking you to quit smoking?"_

Beca remained silent but a vulgar language was already slipping inside her head, almost overflowing in fact.

"So I suggest you throw your cigarettes away as soon as possible," added the redhead.

_"Wow. What a way to level up this relationship."_

The driver turned her eyes on the rear view mirror and met those bright blue eyes. She didn't say a single word, but the redhead figured what she meant by that look. It's Beca's 'Why the fuck would I do that?' look. Nevertheless, Chloe decided to avoid that pair of dark blue eyes and kept her mouth shut once again.

Normally, Beca would have reached for another cigarette stick out of her pocket and secure it in between her lips just for the sake of annoying someone especially this redheaded monster she had been convinced to despise, but there was something about the look on Chloe's face when she took another glance through the rear view mirror that made Beca back down. Never mind that Fat Amy was right there at the end of the communication device secretly and carefully listening to their entire conversations. The brunette soften her eyes without realizing. She held on to the steering wheel and took a deep breath before muttering in her usual low voice, "If it makes you feel better, I'll try."

Chloe must have thought she didn't hear it right due to the unfamiliar words of kindness coming from the mouth of a naturally rude person, so she chose to lean her head on the window and stared blankly at the sight of the world outside of the car in motion.

So Beca took another deep breath when no response came from the redhead.

"I said… if it makes you feel better, I'll try."

That second time, the words finally sunk into her boss' head. She slowly turned her eyes towards the rear view mirror knowing this was where she would catch Beca's dark blue orbs. True enough, two shades of blue glued on one another. Somehow, the redhead was re-energized once again. She let her lips curve into her usual charming smile.

"Really?"

"Hmm."

Chloe softly chuckled and teased, "You are such a cricket, Beca Branson."

Whatever that statement from her boss meant, Beca Branson listened to her heart's instinct and took it as a compliment. Wow, heart? She didn't even know she had a heart. All this time, she was so sure that she was a walking dead whose soul was already burning in hell.

* * *

_"Okay, cricket, let's get moving."_

Beca stopped abruptly from crawling across the vent as soon as Fat Amy's words came in contact with her hearing senses.

"Call me cricket one more time and the first thing I'll do when I get back is stab your fucking Australian fats," she expressed her fit of rage in a constrained rumble.

A non-existing sound of crickets echoed everywhere as silence fell between the two of them. If words could kill, Fat Amy didn't even need to wait for the brunette assassin to return to the headquarters.

_"Wow, Beca, I was just joking. I thought if Chloe could call you that, maybe I could-"_

"If I'm not doing undercover, I would have killed her already, alright?"

The composure and conviction laced in Beca's low voice managed to sway Fat Amy, but damn communication device, she missed the hint of reluctance on the brunette's face. It was the tiniest amount of reluctance ever, but for someone like Beca Mitchell who had always been so sure about killing someone especially an enemy, that tiny amount of reluctance was no less than a basin the size of an ocean.

"Freeze the cameras, I'm going down."

_"Freezing…" Fat Amy paused for a second before eagerly announcing, "and you're now Beca 'The Invisible' Branson."_

Already prepared, Beca jumped off the vent landing on the carpeted floor on her feet, missing the main office desk by a foot. It would have created unnecessary noise that would surely catch the attention of the guards posted just outside the door as well as the already asleep Clarence Beale in the next room. Although Stan and the back-up team were all waiting strategically outside the manor, it's still better not to ignite a shootout.

_"Killing is last resort, Beca. You'll get caught immediately and then trapped in the manor. If a guard enters, you simply have to hide."_

Well, that meant Beca had to move fast. A vault. She needed to look for a vault which could possibly keep the stolen treasure. So she cautiously scanned the home executive office with the use of a pair of night vision goggles that has built-in camera which automatically sends the same findings to Fat Amy's laptop for the rest of the team's viewing.

_"Vaults are usually hidden behind paintings and books."_

But she had scanned half of the room already without the detection of a hidden vault. She kept scanning high and low through until her gaze halted at a detected object right behind the desk chair.

"I think I found it," she announced in the quietest manner possible.

She took her night vision goggles off and switched on her small flashlight directing it towards the detected area as she approached it, but to her dismay, it was nothing but a plain wall. She ran her hands all over it with the hope that her skin could come in contact with a gap, a secret button or something, an indication that this can be safely and quietly break opened in order to reach the hidden vault on the other side. But nothing. It was just a plain wall. She put her goggles back just to make sure she's seen it right.

_"That has to be the vault right there. Jesse approves also."_

"But it's just a wall. No sign or device or anything."

_"Keep looking then."_

Before the brunette could put her pair of goggles into place, she heard small footsteps coming towards the office. That meant, a guard was about to come inside for the hourly personal inspection and so she had to hide fast. There was no time to think, the only choice she had available was the protection of the huge wooden table, so she hastily crawled underneath it. It wasn't the best idea, but it's the only idea for the moment. And in a split second, as expected, the door was pushed open and the lights were switched on. Beca guessed the two guards simply scanned the room as they stood by the door because then the scheduled surveillance process was immediately cut short. Thankfully though, just before the room was embraced by darkness once again, the brunette randomly shot her eyes upward, discovering a hidden fingerprint scanner just below the wooden desk in the process. As soon as the coast was clear, she switched her flashlight on and directed the light towards the device.

"I found something," she told her team.

_"What is it?"_

"It's a fingerprint scanner."

_"I knew it! Beale installed a biometrics access control security device." _Then, Fat Amy let out a heavy sigh._ "You need his fingerprint, Beca, for the recognition system. Fuck!"_

Beca already sensed the frustration and defeat on her Australian teammate's voice. She didn't have a fingerprint sample of Clarence Beale. She could try scanning her fingerprints on it, but surely, every attempt would result to a failure as well as increasing her chances of getting caught. But suddenly, she came up with an idea.

"Well, you can hack almost anything now, right?"

_"What do you mean?"_

"I'll have to try to do this."

Fat Amy started her lecture on the risks and consequences of Beca's vague proposal. But the brunette had already decided to herself to ignore her teammate's commands. She examined the device and noticed that she only needed one fingerprint to obtain its approval. Well, with its odd position, this would render Beale more convenience than having to scan all his fingers at once. She subsequently ran light over the surface of the scanner. Yes! A clear fingerprint glinted through the dark. Beca pushed herself up so that her mouth was just five centimeters away from the surface of the scanner. She started sending her warm breath gently towards it hoping to fool the scanner in the process. She figured the small water particles that comes with the moist of her breath could gather up in between the stained fingerprint lines without tarnishing them, in the process, erroneously convincing the scanner that a finger was actually pressed on it. On her first try, the device's verdict was _'Access Denied: Fingers too wet'._ Beca waited for a few seconds as she fixed the flashlight towards the scanner to dry up the surface for a second try. This time, her gentle breaths came off in shorter period.

"'Access Granted'_,_" Beca read the result causing Fat Amy to squeal in triumph.

_"You are awesome, Beca!"_

Beca hurried to move out from her hideout and noticed that the plain wall had already been opened to reveal a secret room – the vault in its totality. Who said about a small vault anyway? So the biometrics access control was merely a key to open the vault. The brunette stood right by the entrance to inspect the area. No sign of any treasure or anything can be found inside, except for a brown envelope lying vulnerably on the floor towards the farthest end of the vault. Something's not right. This shouldn't be this easy. So Beca figured, there's no other explanation for this but the threat that comes with a laser security circuit system.

"I'll have to leave you for a while, guys. I'll be caught up in a dance."

_"What? Beca? What are you talking about?"_

But Beca had already removed her communication device off her. She wore off her clothes, from her leather jacket to her boots, leaving her only in her pair of underwear, and the huge phoenix tattoo across her back exposed. She tied her hair up in a tight bun and secured the night vision goggles around her head. She took a deep breath as the sight of criss-crossing laser lights fell before her eyes. One wrong move would either injure her or trigger a siren of alarm or maybe both depending on the set configuration of the security system installed. Well, she had less than an hour before the next scheduled patrol of the assigned guards – not a lot of time for this kind of maze so she slowly made her way towards her possible doom. She hopped, crawled, twisted and turned her body as she struggled to avoid those laser lights.

Halfway through, she miscalculated her move and unwantedly, her left cheek came in contact with one of those pencil lines. She stopped and waited for the worst to come. No alarm was triggered but the laser light, imitating the power of a sharp blade, cut a straight line on the skin on her left cheek causing her to wince briefly. If she didn't figure this trap beforehand and walked straight into what was invisible to the naked eye, her body would have been cut into thousand pieces. But she ignored the pain and resumed her work obtaining a few more cuts decorating her bare skin until she reached the brown envelope. Taking it out with her would have raise more than suspicion, so she carefully took a look of what's inside the envelope. Just a short bond paper with the words: _You'll have to kill me first._

* * *

Beca walked across the hallways as if her injuries didn't sting her. The other guards threw odd stares at her upon the recognition of the bleeding cut on her left cheek which stretched a little longer than a couple of centimeters. She only returned these stares with her signature blank expression and carried on with her path towards her own post. Just as soon as she reached that pink door decorated with flowers and butterflies, it flung open revealing a still very awake Chloe Beale.

"Where have you been?" she interrogated, her voice laced with authority matching the folded arms above her chest. "What happened to your 'I'll be staying with you all the time. 24/7, in fact'?"

Beca didn't give an answer. For someone who was typically quiet and rude, such response didn't make the all too innocent ginger suspicious. Well, what kind of answer should she give her anyway? She can't tell her boss that she just broke into her father's home office, hacked the installed top-secret security system, discovered a hidden vault, and obtained nothing but a not-so-much-of-a-clue clue.

_"Tell her you went for a coffee break," _Fat Amy came to her rescue.

"Coffee break."

But Beca's statement slightly ended in a rising intonation, indicating doubt in her excuse.

Chloe furrowed her eyebrow as Beca stared back at her. _Take it or leave it_, the brunette thought. The young Beale would have asked tons of follow-up questions for her bodyguard to answer but then she noticed the bleeding on her left cheek. She shifted her entire attention to the wound, wondering what could have caused such blemish on Beca's porcelain face. She let her arms fall to her sides then walked towards the brunette closing the gap between them. Surprisingly, Beca remained calm on her position as she watched her boss stare at her wound in awe, but it wasn't until Chloe raised her hand supposedly to touch Beca's cheek that the shorter woman hastily moved backwards and carelessly wiped some blood off with the back of her hand.

"It's nothing," the brunette muttered.

"What hap-"

"What do you need?" asked Beca, immediately cutting the sentence off.

"I can't sleep."

Waiting for no further response from the wordless bodyguard, Chloe dragged her into her bedroom, and of course, Beca had no other choice but to follow her. The redhead climbed her bed then patted a space on the side where her companion should take a seat. Chloe deliberately tucked herself in as she prepared to go to sleep.

But then she suddenly ordered, "Sing to me."

_What?_

_ "What?"_

Fat Amy's stunned reaction suddenly turned into a fit of laughter. It's the funniest joke she had ever heard. _The _Beca Mitchell to sing a lullaby? That's totally funny, right?

"Come on," the redhead pressed. "Just sing to me, so I can go to sleep."

"Why don't you just fucking go to sleep?"

Chloe threw her a look.

"I want you to sing, that's an order."

_"Do you even sing, Beca?"_

Fat Amy still couldn't contain her laughter. Well, it would have been easy to just walk out right that very moment if only Beca had found the stolen treasure in that vault, but then Chloe was also making this weird puppy-dog eyes that the brunette just started singing, muttering words to be exact.

"Fuck you. Fuck you very, very much  
'Cause we hate what you-"

Chloe shot the most devilish scowl she could ever deliver to her very rude bodyguard as Fat Amy burst out laughing into Beca's ears.

"Could you _please_ sing something more appropriate, Branson?"

Then, for some odd reason, the brunette found herself in submission to the redhead's plea. Good thing she had this undercover mission as an excuse. So she cleared her throat and simply started singing:

"Losing the star without a sky  
Losing the reasons why  
You're losing the calling that you've been faking  
And I'm not kidding"

She knew Fat Amy had dropped her jaw on the floor already when she heard nothing but silence from her earpiece, but she continued singing anyway.

"It's damned if you don't and it's damned if you do  
Be true, 'cause they'll lock you up in a sad, sad zoo  
Oh, hidy-hidy-hiding, whatcha trying to prove?  
By hidy-hidy-hiding  
You're not worth a thing."

She turned to Chloe and the redhead had her eyes closed already.

"Sew your fortunes on a string  
And hold them up to light  
Blue smoke will take  
A very violent flight  
And you will be changed and everything  
And you will be  
In a very sad, sad zoo"

Chloe's breathing was almost soft and steady.

"I once was lost, but now I'm found  
Was blind, but now I see you  
How selfish of you  
To believe in the meaning of all the bad dreaming"

"Metal heart, you're not hiding  
Metal heart, you're not worth a thing  
Metal heart, you're not hiding  
Metal heart, you're not worth a thing"

And then Beca stopped at the end of the song. Her primary audience had already fallen asleep. Her eyes soften as she watched the sleeping beauty. If she wasn't Beca Mitchell and the redhead wasn't Chloe Beale, she would have reached for those lose strands of hair to clear them away from that angelic face. But she's Beca Mitchell and the redhead's Chloe Beale so instead, she put back the sharpness in her eyes then walked out of the darkened room, returning to her bodyguard post. Just as she did, she missed that sweet smile on the lips of a supposedly asleep Chloe. Positively, every night, the redhead would love to sleep in the arms of a certain cricket's lullaby.

* * *

_Song Title/s: (1) Fuck You - Lily Allen (2) Metal Heart - Cat Power [Moon Pix version]_

_Who says I can't include songs in this series? It's Pitch Perfect, after all :) Oh, and regarding those 'crime' scenes. This is not Mission Impossible, alright? Just an amateur writer right here. The biometrics thing is just a theory, by the way. Not sure if it could actually work._

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Pitch Perfect.

_PS. Since I'm still trying to nurse my writer's block, it may take me longer than the usual to update. I'm really sorry :( but it won't take more than a week, I promise. Again, **happy birthday, Patricia Eliana! :)****  
**_


	6. Enemy

_Well, I'm sure it's still August 9 in some parts of the world so... HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ANNA KENDRICK! :) and oh, I'm really sorry for the **very** late update. I hope you, guys, could forgive me._

**_mrebel1992:_**_ Not sure how to feel about that. LOL. well, yeah, relatively, I have lower reviews and favorites this time, but I'm earning more followers, so I guess it's not that bad, right? I'm just really happy that there are people who get to read my work :)_

**_cxcxcx386: _**_I love you too :)_

**_dtrivera30:_**_ that's a puzzle to me as well. LOL. _

**_XxSendrickShipperxX:_**_ Thanks for the compliment :) Well, normally, I post an update every three days, but suddenly with this writer's block I'm having as well as school stuff, it's hard to tell when to update anymore except that it's going to be within the week._

**_lauwer:_**_ That would be a very big challenge to me. I'm not promising anything though._

_**oftherose13:** I just really love reading your reviews :)_

**_smw48910, MysticFalls94, RobOverstreet, avidreader, BeChloeFan01, madness2013: _**_Thanks for the review, guys :)_

_Now what to expect with the sixth chapter? Hmm... I guess this is a pretty boring chapter but surprisingly, it's my **favorite** so far. I don't know. Read it and you tell me :)_

* * *

CHAPTER SIX: **Enemy**

Beca quietly kept a watchful eye on Chloe as she patiently sat in front of a vanity mirror while an entire crew of makeup artists and stylists gave her a retouch for the remaining leg of the photo shoot. She would be appearing on the cover page of this popular fashion magazine, the name of which was deliberately forgotten by the brunette. She spotted Kimmy Jin, Chloe's executive assistant, seated on the couch and so decided to take this opportunity to take a break from her undercover job as the bodyguard for some alone time with her cigarettes. Her boss who strictly disapproved this habit didn't have to know, so she swiftly found a silent exit out of the dressing room to search for some smoking area in the building. To her dismay, the only available place was the restroom. Nevertheless, she quickly lit a stick as she listened to Fat Amy through her earpiece.

_"We need you to get out of your comfort zone, Beca. Try talking to Chloe, she might know something about the treasure."_

"What if she doesn't?"

_"Just try and talk to her. You never know, she might give us some clue."_

"Why would she tell me such a thing?"

_"Face it, Beca. Whether you like it or not, she likes you."_

And they both stopped. Fortunately for the Australian chick, she was out of reach to the brunette or she should have been dead. What she didn't know was that Beca didn't wear the devilish glare she was supposed to be sporting on her face. Instead, she simply froze in place as her mind went black in an instant. Even so, Fat Amy snappily tried to fix what was supposedly a damage.

"_I-I mean… she's fond of you… you know. God, you are nothing but rude to her, Beca! She's your boss but you're giving her the fucking attitude. If I were her, I would have fired you already."_

"She did fire me."

_"And then she took you back. How sweet, isn't it?"_

Coming back to her old normal self, the brunette let out an infuriated grunt while her Australian partner went on and on to tease her. Afterwards, she was trying to form a shape out of the smokes coming from her mouth when a cubicle door slammed open.

"What the hell is that smell!"

Beca coolly looked through the mirror to find Aubrey Posen standing right behind her. Seeing that the blonde was already furious enough at her, she inhaled on the stick then carelessly exhaled more smoke out of her mouth filling the room with its odor.

"What the hell are you doing?" the young heiress barked at her as she frantically search for a perfume in her shoulder bag, but instead of giving out an answer, the brunette simply stared back at her. "_This _is a restroom, Branson. This is _not_ some kind of a smoking area."

"Same thing," mumbled the bodyguard.

The blonde chose to ignore such comment and proceeded with spraying perfume everywhere as if there was a fire and the perfume was a fire extinguisher. She took some pieces of tissue and snatched the cigarette stick from her, extinguished it, and disposed it much to the brunette's displeasure. Hence, Beca wrathfully watched her undesired companion resume with filling the room with that sweet scent. She hated it. Consequently, she hated everything about this girl.

"Still smells like shit," Aubrey sniffed the air around her. She glanced at her only companion, and sprayed some sweet scent all over her, ending with a big successful grin she displayed across her face. "There. Much much better, right?"

Beca gritted her teeth and clenched her fists as she directed those sharp eyes towards the blonde who was then securing the bottle of perfume back to her shoulder bag.

"You… owe… me… a… stick," she stated.

_"Come on, Beca, just let it go. It's just a cigarette stick."_

But it wasn't just a stick for her.

"I don't owe you anything," the other firmly replied, throwing an authoritative look at her.

Realizing there was no point of arguing with the other spoiled heiress in her life, Beca took a deep breath hopefully drowning the anger boiling in her insides. The blonde was lucky. If she wasn't in a mission, she would have strangled this woman to death without any hesitation and regret.

"I heard you talking," Aubrey spoke out as she began to bring out her make-up kit after washing her hands. "I am certain that you were talking about your boss who happens to be my best friend. Am I right or am I _definitely_ right?"

The bodyguard simply huffed in response.

"I seriously thought there was someone else in here, but well, it's just the crazy too alternative bodyguard talking to herself." The blonde shrugged her shoulders at the sight of the absence of any other human being in the restroom. "So what's up with the... 'what if she doesn't' and 'why would she tell me such a thing' anyway, huh?"

Right then, Beca was so sure that this blonde was best friends with the redhead. They're both very chatty. And nosy. So annoying in every way.

"_Don't answer her."_

"I don't trust you, Branson. I thought you should know."

Beca still gave no response, but if only she did open her mouth, she should have replied 'I don't give a shit.'

"You really are rude, aren't you?" Blondie snapped, pausing from putting on her lipstick to turn to the brunette who was already disturbingly unresponsive for her standard. "When a boss asks you a question, you are to answer them, is that clear?"

"You are not the boss of me," the other mumbled.

_"Ugh. You really are such a bitch, Beca Mitchell. Would you just walk out? You can't be on the best friend's bad side."_

It didn't show on her face, but Beca gladly obliged. She couldn't stand to stay in the same vicinity with the Posen heiress.

"Hey!" Aubrey called out. "I'm still talking to you. Don't just walk out on me."

But the brunette was already on her way to the door. Aubrey Posen made another attempt to call her attention but the only response she got was the unnecessary slamming of the door. Beca dragged herself somewhere else, trying to find a much better location, away from any distraction, for her most anticipated cigarette break.

* * *

Beca was so sure she was only gone for another good fifteen minutes, but when she returned to the photo shoot, all that's left were a few people, some members of the magazine crew who was already wrapping everything up. Noticeably, the redheaded monster she had for a boss was already gone. She kept her cool but inside, she was having a panic attack. She knew she's not supposed to feel that way. So what if Chloe was missing? It's not her business anyway. The stolen treasure was her only business here, no more and no less. But she tried to rationalize her sudden action of rapidly searching for the redhead by putting it this way: if something bad had happened to her, Clarence Beale would definitely send his men to haunt her down and kill her even before she could find the stolen treasure. Okay, that idea didn't scare at all. The notorious Beca Mitchell was never scared of anything not even of her own death, but the thought of Chloe missing just caused her such panicky behavior.

Thankfully, she spotted the Asian executive assistant by the vanity mirror, and so immediately rushed to her.

"Where's Chloe?" she questioned.

Kimmy Jin raised an eyebrow at her, confused by the nature of the inquiry. "Chloe left already. She said she'd meet you up at the parking..." her voice trailed off at the sudden realization of what was certainly happening.

_Shit_, Beca thought. She took another scan around the room, this time for a particular blonde-haired person. Chloe had to be with her best friend.

"Where's Aubrey?" she asked no one in particular and the rest of the people in the dressing room simply exchanged looks.

"I'm right here. What the hell do you want from me?"

The bodyguard turned around to see that Aubrey Posen just entered the area. She never thought this moment would come but her voice and her eyes were obviously pleading for sufficient answer when she asked, "Have you seen Chloe?"

Aubrey nervously shrugged her shoulders in response. "S-She's doing the photo shoot, right?"

"Damn it," Beca muttered to herself as she ran towards the exit. Where the hell did Chloe go? She needed to find her, but where? Remembering the presence of her Australian partner in crime at the end of the hidden communication device, she commanded, "Track her phone."

_"Don't worry, Beca, I'm on it."_

* * *

Chloe quietly watched her boyfriend ate a plate of Bolognese he ordered for himself. She couldn't believe she sneaked out from her bodyguard just to be ignored by Tom once again. _Beca must be freaking out by now,_ she thought, but later rationalized that the brunette would probably be too indifferent to care about her disappearance anyway. Well, when Tom called up earlier, he sounded so sweet and sincere – the kind of Tom that Chloe truly adored before. Who wouldn't fall for that trick?

"Are you going to order anything?" he asked the girl seated across him without even bothering to give her a look.

She shook her head and forced a smile. "No, I'm fine."

She mentally cursed herself. She was supposed to be mad at him – for that disaster date a week ago, for not even concerning enough to contact her after that, and just for being so much of a complete douche. But she was easily reminded as to why she was staying in this relationship.

"Tom," she directed those soft eyes to him. "Can I ask you something?"

Tom paused for a moment, shooting her a quick awkward glance before resuming with his meal. "Okay."

"Is the answer still 'yes'?"

As she patiently waited for his answer, Chloe glued her eyes on her boyfriend's face which slowly contorted in confusion. Tom had no idea what his girlfriend was referring to. Nonetheless, that hopeful look she was throwing towards his direction told him to nod his head in agreement to what was unknown to him.

"Yeah, totally."

Of course, the redhead didn't know the lie that lies on that statement, she smiled joyously to herself.

"I love you," she said courageously.

Tom stiffed a laugh, but otherwise replied, "Yeah, sure, I love you, too."

Chloe had no previous relationship to compare it to, but she was so sure it wasn't supposed to look like this, and it certainly wasn't the proper way to tell someone you love them. To make her feel better though, she just rationalized to herself that Tom was different.

"Um, by the way," the brunet looked up from his plate to meet her eyes for the second time since they arrived at the restaurant. "We're going to Las Vegas this weekend."

"We are?"

He nodded positively. "It's Greg's birthday."

"Do we have to go? I mean, we haven't spent some quality time together in quite a while."

But Tom dropped his utensil, rested his hands on the table, and shot her a look as he firmly stated once more, "It's Greg's birthday."

So the redhead let out a sigh and forced another smile on her lips. "I'll ask Kimmy Jin to book us the plane tickets right away."

"The hotel reservation too."

"Any preference?"

"Bellagio, Penthouse Suite."

But before Chloe could even nod her head, a pocket knife suddenly stood in between the index finger and middle finger of Tom's left hand missing his skin by a few millimeters. The couple, startled, turned their heads to the side to find a very furious Beca 'The Bodyguard' Branson holding her pocket knife firmly into place.

"T-That… is so cool." Tom pulled his trembling hands and examined it for any damage.

Beca shot him a death glare and muttered, "I missed."

"Beca!" the redhead shrieked, standing up from her seat to restrain her bodyguard from doing any more damage. "Are you crazy?"

_"And you found her."_

Beca looked straight into those bright blue eyes with no words or anything at all but so much anger burning in her own. Maybe she was indeed crazy. If nature permits, she could have killed anybody with that razorblade look. Chloe stopped at her tracks, daring to stare at them. It was the first time ever that she felt truly scared by the brunette. That look on her eyes, it was something different. She'd seen her furiously mad before, but this time was completely different. But she was the boss and so she had to put her hands on her hips in such imposing manner.

"Apologize to him."

Beca only gritted her teeth and balled her fists in frustration.

"I said, apologize to him, Beca!"

"I believe he doesn't have any appointment with you today," the brunette replied. "Why would I apologize to him?"

"Because he's my boyfriend," Chloe answered. It wasn't supposed to make her feel as such, but apparently, those words stung the brunette for some unidentified reason. "He doesn't have to go through my assistant or anybody else including you. He can have an appointment with me any time of the day he wants, Beca."

_"Okay, I guess this is settled. It's just her boyfriend."_

But the bodyguard threw a quick glance at the guy still seated, a sinister smirk placed on his lips. It's so irritating that Beca swore she could just stab him to death. So this is the so-called boyfriend, that same guy who left Chloe at the Pandemonium. For a moment, she stopped herself. Apparently, she was listening to the redhead's rants during their first encounter. Beca knew she wasn't supposed to. She wasn't supposed to care about anything in Chloe's life. So what if her boyfriend was a total jerk? But she couldn't stop the rage growing in her entire body.

"That's not how it works for me," she said, retrieving her knife from the table and securing it in her pocket. Then, grabbed her boss by the arm and pulled her away with her. "I'm taking you home."

_"Okay, Beca, what the hell are you doing?"_

It was only when Chloe asked for help that Tom finally decided to get his ass off of the chair and defend his girlfriend, but the moment his palms came in contact with Beca's arm, she gave him a hard punch on the face causing him to fall back to the table.

* * *

After a very bad day, nothing was more relaxing for Beca Mitchell than a good cigarette break. She sat quietly all alone under a Pecan tree near the security quarters, enjoying the coldness of the night with the warmth comfort that came with cigarette smoking. It was nice to find some complete alone time – no earpiece, no microphone, no Chloe, no duties. There was nothing else but her and her cigarette. But, well, there was Luke angrily marching towards her with two other men in black suit trailing right behind him. The blonde-haired head of security stood right in front of the female bodyguard who simply moved her eyes towards his face filled with blank expression.

"Well?" he started.

She carelessly extinguished the already too short cigarette stick into the ashtray, reached out for another from her breast pocket, then offered it to her visitors. "Cigarette, gentlemen?"

But Luke had only smashed it off her hand. The brunette pursed her lips at the sudden reaction as she watched the stick land somewhere on the ground. What was it with people wasting cigarette sticks? They could have simply declined her offer. She calmly reached for another one for herself and started smoking once again.

"The next time you decide to hit somebody on the face make sure it's not your boss' boyfriend," the blonde man warned.

"So am I fired or what?" she asked, obviously not interested with the answer anyway.

"And quit with the attitude, will you?" he hissed at her. "You're lucky enough that Miss Beale wants you to stay. I don't know how you did it, Branson, but the only reason her father agreed is because you found her in an instant. Otherwise, I would have thrown you out of this place myself."

"That's what you want anyway, right?"

Luke placed his hands on his hips and looked sharply into Beca's scornful eyes. "It is _never_ forgotten that you are here because of some sort of a stupid accident. I have my eyes on you, Branson. Don't forget that. One wrong move and I'll kick you out of here."

Beca merely huffed as a response.

"And you may be part of _this_ group," he firmly stated, making sure his words would actually sink in her mind, "But you will never be one of _us_. I command the rest of this group, Branson."

"Exactly. I don't take orders from you."

The head of security gritted his teeth at the retort from the brunette.

"So are you done?" she looked up to him mockingly.

Luke flashed one more evil glare at her in complete annoyance before turning his heels and walked away with the other blonde-haired man in black suit. Surprisingly, the guy with black curly hair and dark skin who Beca recognized as the one named Paul stayed. She silently followed him with her eyes as he slowly walked towards the thrown cigarette stick lying on the ground. He picked it up, placed it in between his lips, and lit it up with his own lighter, then took a seat next to the brunette.

"If you ask me, you're not here because of some sort of a stupid accident," Paul said confidently. He turned towards the woman, but she offered no response. So he immediately added, "We both know why you are here."

Beca wondered if he really did know the reason, but she remained calm anyway.

"I know who you are, Beca."

Still, she did not respond.

"I have seen you before. I should have known when you joined us at the Receiving Room."

"Sure," was all she said. In her mind flashed possible old memories of how she might have encountered this man, but to no avail.

Paul let out a sigh, and then turned to her once again. "But I owe you my life. I know you could have easily stuck your infamous pocket knife that had killed a number of people more than my fingers could count into my chest, but you didn't. I must pay you back, that's the rule… so I won't tell Luke or anyone about your dirty little secret."

No, Beca won't express any sign of gratitude to the man. She didn't care.

"You have to watch your back, kid," he tried to warn her in the friendliest manner he could. "The man is right. You are not one of us after all. Worse comes to worst, you should know I won't be taking your side."

Certainly, this man knew something. His words were some sort of a riddle to her ears that there was only so much that she had clearly comprehended. There were more enemies than she thought. Whatever he meant exactly, the brunette playfully blew some smoke out of her mouth in response. Defeated by her unresponsiveness, he let out a sigh and stood up.

"Miss Beale has been escorted back to her room," he listened to the report received through his own earpiece. "She expects your presence before you go back to your post."

With that, he left her on her own.

* * *

_"I really don't understand why you had to punch him. You didn't need to go through that anyway. I'm telling you, Beca, you need to prepare yourself, she's going to scold you this time."_

But the brunette ignored the warning from her partner, knocked on Chloe's door, then punched in the password on the keypad device. When the door was unlocked, she found herself face-to-face with her boss who must have been waiting for her that whole time.

"Why did you do that?" Chloe immediately interrogated, this time she wasn't soft with her words at all. But it was no threat for the bodyguard who simply stared back at her. "Answer me, Beca, why did you punch him?"

_"I suggest you give her an answer. We have a mission to accomplish here, Beca. You can't lose this job."_

So Beca took a deep breath and replied, "I was mad."

The other woman gasped at the answer. She couldn't grasp the idea as to why the brunette would be mad, but, well, she was a mad person anyway. Still, that shouldn't be a valid reason.

"Why were you mad?"

"Do I need a reason?"

"Tom isn't some kind of an audio system installed in your car that you could just destroy at your will then throw out the window."

"I told you I was mad."

"So why were you so mad?" the redhead frustratingly demanded for a sensible answer, her voice rising than the usual. "Tell me because quite frankly, I don't understand your _whim_ most of the time!"

"I'm mad because you sneaked out from me just so you could meet up with him!" Beca exclaimed in rage causing them both to freeze in place and quietly stare at each other. Nobody knows where that statement came from, but surprisingly, it certainly burst out from the brunette's mouth.

_"Okay, I'll pretend that I didn't hear such a thing… because that just sounds so wrong. Like, I can't even."_

Realizing what Fat Amy was trying to tell her, the brunette tried to open her mouth again and come up with some more excuse – something that would sound professional and objective, and not that she was jealous by her boss' preference.

"I'm trying to do my job here. Your father said 'no more sneaking out' and that was exactly what you did leaving me no idea where you've gone. We all know your father had been kidnapped. He was able to escape but his captors are still roaming around, so what do you think your bodyguard would conclude when you just disappear without any clue at all? You might not realize this, but if something bad happens to you, I'm going to lose my job."

_"Excellent speech, Beca."_

Chloe let out a small chuckle, looking down at her feet. "So it's all about you then… of course."

There was nothing wrong with the bodyguard's answer. In fact, it was the most absolute answer to the question. However, for some reason, it disappointed the redhead. Just when she thought the bulletproof woman was starting to really care about her when she reacted in such maner, it turned out that it was all just due to some mandate that came with her job description.

"Well, I was with my boyfriend," she looked back to that pair of dark blue eyes. "You don't have to worry about losing your job when I'm with him because I know he's going to protect me anyway. I'll be in good hands… you know, for future reference with regards to my security."

"I would be more than worried for my job whenever you're with him," the brunette muttered.

_"Oh come on, Beca, don't make her mad again! Just shut the fuck up."_

"Is that supposed to be some kind of an insult?" the redhead asked, folding her arms over her chest and raising one eyebrow at her.

"I don't know what you picked up from what happened, but your stupidly precious Timothy-"

"His name is Tom!" she cut off.

"Whatever, I don't care." Beca simply ignored the glare she got. "The point is your knight-in-a-phony-shining-armor can't protect you."

"Yes, he can!" the other insisted.

"He got beaten up by a girl," she pointed out and Fat Amy's cheers were heard through the earpiece. "He can't even protect himself from a five-foot tall woman, that's about nine inches shorter than him, how do you think he can protect you from any other danger?"

"What happened earlier doesn't count!"

"Oh that does count." Suddenly, Beca started moving towards the redhead and Chloe alarmingly had no other choice but to move backwards as her bodyguard slowly took her steps forward, showing no signs of stopping any time soon. "Hypothetically speaking, let's say… I'm the biggest threat to your life, Chloe Beale. I'm the most dangerous person you could ever encounter in the face of the earth."

Beca was talking calmly and in the presumed hypothetical sense but the young heiress couldn't help but feel truthfully threatened, vulnerable, and defenseless as the small woman moved closer and closer to her. It felt like listening to Bryan Mills' threat after kidnapping his daughter.

"My ultimate goal in this whole fucking life is to reach you, get to where you are no matter what it takes… then hurt you in every way I possibly can, perhaps, kill you in the most gruesome manner ever invented in this fucked up planet. Let's say, it's the very purpose of my existence, the only reason I'm here - that I was made to kill you… I'm some kind of a horrible monster, supposedly indestructible, impenetrable… and this is all I have ever known to be."

_"Beca, you are fucking scaring the hell out of me. Stop it now!"_

It wasn't because of Fat Amy's appeal, her presence was long forgotten anyway, but Beca finally stopped at her track, and so did Chloe who was already holding her breath. The redhead realized that they were already standing right in the middle of the bedroom as the atmosphere was suddenly filled with silence. The redhead looked into those dark blue orbs staring back at her and felt more terrified than she already was when all she could make out from them was a sense of emptiness as if the brunette was indeed some kind of a horrible monster. No, it was worse than being a monster. It was as if this person standing right in front of her was soulless and heartless, like some kind of a dead creature.

"I take my knife out and mercilessly stab your boyfriend right in his chest," Beca whispered as she went on with the hypothetical situation. "He's dead in an instant. So there, it's just you and me."

Calmly, Chloe released the air she was holding on for far too long already and bravely whispered back, "So what's the point?"

The bodyguard, without any premature warning, walked around her boss and stood right behind her. Then, slowly, she enveloped Chloe's body in a bear hug.

"What if I hold you like this?" she asked.

Chloe had Beca's arms wrapped around her body, her hands secured in a tight grip right above her stomach, her skin upon her skin, and that's when she realized how dangerously closed the brunette was to her. She was so close she could feel her breath against the back of her neck that for some reason was sending some sort of electricity through her spine.

"There's no Tom to save you now," she heard the brunette whisper again. "Tell me... what would you do?"

The redhead certainly knew the answer. She was supposed to do something to get away from Beca's tight grip. She was supposed to feel endangered by the sudden threat around her. But then, Chloe found herself ironically calm and steady in Beca's arms. One touch of her skin and the terror inside her vanished. She was not supposed to feel comfortable or safe or guarded, but somehow, that was exactly what the brunette had unintentionally made her feel. Truth be told, she was so close to saying, 'I'd ask you not to let me go.'

"_So what exactly are you two doing?"_

Fat Amy's curious voice became a wake-up call to Beca's senses. Looking at their current position, she knew she already made her point, so even before Chloe could give out an answer - to tell her not to let her go - the brunette quickly pulled her hands away from her body and increased the distance between them.

"I guess you already get the point," she said, constantly moving away from the other person. "I'd let you take a rest now."

Still speechless, Chloe absentmindedly nodded her head as she watched her bodyguard leave the room. What the hell just happened?

* * *

Beca silently stood in place as Aubrey and Chloe exchanged goodbyes at the airport. The weekend had come and it was time for Chloe and Tom to fly to Las Vegas. Aubrey had to attend some elite party in behalf of her parents so she couldn't accompany her best friend. The brunette won't be going as well as Luke's idea of suspension with Paul taking the bodyguard duties for the special trip.

"Chloe, come on, let's go."

Tom who sported a bruised on his cheek impatiently grabbed his girlfriend by the hand and dragged her away from the blonde. It was never planned but before the redhead could completely turn around, she met Beca's eyes for a brief moment. Maybe it was the effect of what happened between them that one night that she found herself feeling upset about the fact that they'll be away from each other, the first time since the brunette became her bodyguard. But, she had to do it, she had to leave with her boyfriend for this Las Vegas trip.

When the couple was finally out of sight, Aubrey turned her head towards the only companion she had left.

"Why didn't you go with them again?"

"I'm taking the weekend off," Beca muttered before starting to walk away.

"Hey!" the blonde rushed in front of her, making the shorter woman to halt.

She didn't open her mouth, but the young Posen knew the bodyguard was screaming 'What the hell do you want?' into her face.

"I just need to tell you something," she said. "I still hate the smell of cigarette around your atmosphere. I still hate your attitude. I still hate your guts… but we could be friends."

Beca eyed her suspiciously. Was she the real Aubrey Posen or just an impostor? Nevertheless, she deliberately shook her head and proceeded to head towards the exit.

"I heard about what you did to Tom," Aubrey called out. "You can beat up my best friend's boyfriend whenever you want. I certainly have your back."

Though Beca went on with her departure without looking back to the young heiress, somehow, they had this silent mutual agreement. It seems like Aubrey Posen wasn't Beca's enemy after all.

* * *

_I just want to take this opportunity to say thank you to everybody who's been sending me messages just to express their love and appreciation for my works. Your words truly mean a lot to me. And I'm sorry if I don't want to reveal my real identity. Right now, I just really enjoy being thesecretsociety. But I'm saving your contact details, just in case. :)_

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Pitch Perfect.


	7. Invader

_On Poison & Wine... surprisingly, I still get more and more reviews/faves/follows for it and since there's no more 'next chapter' to address them, I would like to take this opportunity to thank everybody, and I mean everybody who's been giving love and support to the series. And **DarkWriterXX94** for the beautiful wallpaper you did (still crying happy tears). Poison & Wine readers: please check it out at **darkwriterxx94 deviantart com** :) _

_Now back to Stolen... we have more than 100 followers now! Thank you so much, people! I hope we get more :)_

**_madness2013, lauwer:_**_ SPOILER (?) Vegas won't be fun anyway._

**_mrebel1992: _**_Please don't expect a Poison&Wine type of MitchSen friendship here, you're just going to be disappointed at me. And thank you so much for deciding not to be a very quiet cricket_. :)

_**theothergranger, avidreader, DCG-Charlie, Monkeyfuncky: **Thank you! :)_

_**BeChloeFan: **I love you too :)_

**_cheezels:_**_ Thanks! I love that part, too. I guess that made me favorite the chapter. :) I, myself, am surprise at how I was able to develop Beca's character here - from that of a cold-blooded criminal to this protective bodyguard. I'm happy at how the story is becoming._

**_GinNoSaji:_**_ I think Chloe is one of the most interesting characters in movie history, but I needed to modify her for the story. I needed her to be portrayed weak, but at the same time retaining that vibrant personality._

**_cxcxcx386, XxSendrickShipperxX, MysticFalls94, wrrrby:_**_ You hate Tom? Excellent! :)_

**_Ilumiinous:_**_ Aww, an award would be pretty awesome! :)_

_Now about the chapter... Yeah, it's Las Vegas but well, it's not about it..._

* * *

CHAPTER SEVEN: **Invader**

While Jesse stood in front of his teammates as he made a recap of their progress, Fat Amy pensively watched Stan consume this cup of yogurt… strawberry flavor, by the way. For some reason, she found it sexy the way this demi-god (there's no other way to explain his royal hotness) would dig the spoon into the cup then _sexily_ put the food into his mouth. So when a small amount of it drip onto his plain white shirt and he deliberately took it off then threw it somewhere on the floor revealing his sculpted body, Fat Amy could simply lick her lips in delight. All three were so engrossed into their own sphere of life that nobody noticed that the last member of their team was too quiet than her normal self.

"So far this is what we've got," Jesse showed what was on display on a portable whiteboard beside him. "A stolen treasure, a dead Benji, an extremely secured Clarence Beale, a top-secret and highly protected vault, and a very puzzling note left for us… not so much resources, actually."

He turned towards the rest of the team for feedbacks and the only one completely on the same page with him was Stan Mitchell.

"I think this blonde bombshell right here has an addition to that too," he smirked towards the direction of the Australian chick drooling over him. "You have the password to Chloe's room, right?"

Fat Amy frantically searched for a piece of paper on the table where she had written the said password. When she found it, she immediately passed it to Jesse who wrote the additional information on the whiteboard.

"9-4-2-1-4," Jesse read the password aloud then sighed. "We have to unlock something out of this. This has to mean something… or else, it's a dead end street for all of us."

"Kiddo, what do you think about this?" Stan remembered the presence of his sister and so turned to look at her way. However, Beca's mind was lost in space that she offered no response, not even a blank stare or a quick glance. So, Stan decided to throw his then empty cup of yogurt at her to catch her attention. "Beca!"

True enough, the tigress was suddenly awakened. She shifted her eyes from the distant place she was previously staring at to her brother with the right amount of dirty look. Stan knew in an instant that there was something unusual with his sister. Beca Mitchell was never the person to be preoccupied with the unknown.

"So do you have anything to say with this?" Jesse shot her a look.

And the usual blank expression was back on her face as she looked back at him. "Why don't we just kill him? Let's kill Clarence Beale."

"And that would do us what?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "But that's what the note says. We'll have to kill him first. Maybe it would open us to some kind of another vault or… maybe he stuffed the treasure into his body that we'll have to dig it out of him… I don't know, Jesse. You're the intelligent one here, you tell me."

"Don't be ridiculous, Beca," the guy snorted.

Stan shook his head, "As much fun as that sounds, killing him would only bring us to a real dead end. We've already lost Benji. Clarence Beale is probably the only person left alive who can tell us where the treasure is."

"Then what does the note mean?" Fat Amy asked, finally concentrating on the meeting.

"What if it doesn't mean anything?" Beca muttered.

"It has to mean something!" Jesse exclaimed. "Beale knows we are after the treasure. He knows The Society will do whatever it takes to get it. He put that note for us to see. It was intended for us."

"Okay, but for what kind of intention?" the brunette questioned again. "Yeah, he knows we're after it. Well, this is not some sort of a friendly treasure hunting, Jesse, wherein the clues are intended to show us the right path. Clarence Beale doesn't want us to find the treasure in the first place."

"Beca has a point," the Australian blonde agreed.

Stan squinted his eyes as he contemplated on the theory. "So… are you saying he's creating a diversion?"

Before his sister could give her response, Jesse butted in. "He's not going to do that. Let's not forget what Benji didn't mean to let us know. '_Clarence Beale would wait for us and fight back._' And let's not forget, he used to be one of us after all. No member of The Secret Society is coward enough to run away from the enemy."

Then, the discussion went to a tentative pause. Jesse had made a very strong point that even Beca Mitchell did not dare to contradict it. He's right. You don't expect a former Phoenix, a Council member in fact, to run away just because he was too coward to face the enemy. Benji would never look up to a coward man.

Remembering those last moments of his best friend once again, Jesse frowned at his pair of sneakers then said, "You have a very good point, Beca. I must admit that. But I stand by Benji's side on this one. There is no reason for Clarence Beale to divert us. He increased his security anticipating the worst to happen, for fuck's sake. I do believe Benji died for a reason. He died out of loyalty to his master. And I'm not going to let his death go in vain."

"Guilt," mumbled the brunette, earning a glare from her brother.

Stan nodded towards the other guy and assured, "And we won't."

"Hey," Fat Amy snapped, an idea suddenly popped in her mind after connecting all the information written on the whiteboard. "What if both points are actually correct?"

Her teammates all turned towards her direction.

"What if Jesse's right that this is completely intentional and Beca's right too that this is a diversion… or maybe, a detour to buy him more time to prepare for our attack?" A victorious smirk was then displayed on her face. "What if, for the meantime… there's one more person who can tell us where the treasure is?"

Then everybody turned towards the whiteboard, all eyes landed on the password written on it. _94214_. This password truly had to mean something. In a flash, Chloe Beale had invaded Beca's mind _again_. The latest theory had put the redhead's life into danger and for some reason, this alarmed the youngest Mitchell so much that she found herself feeling all worried for the first time in her life.

* * *

Chloe knew it. This Las Vegas trip with Tom and his pathetic friends was totally a bad idea. Really, the first few hours were great. Tom was being nice and sweet the entire flight, he even wrapped his arms around his girlfriend and let her rest her head on his shoulder as they both slept through it. However, arriving at Las Vegas killed the mood. It was a good thing that she had Paul to carry her heavy luggage for her because her boyfriend would never volunteer to do the job. When they got to the penthouse suite, all she did was to change her clothes, and Tom Jacobs was already gone. There was just Chloe and her temporary bodyguard.

Later on, the young heiress quietly sat by a table at _Circo_ patiently waiting for the _salmon e caviale_ pizza she ordered for lunch. Wherever Tom was that time, he was surely having more fun than what his girlfriend was having. Great, she was paying for a grand weekend vacation she wasn't enjoying at all, not to mention Greg's birthday party at a strip club she wasn't even invited to (boys' night out, Tom argued). Her father will be very thrilled if he finds out about all these. Must start getting on Paul's good side so these bad chronicles don't get to reach her father's knowledge.

So with a big grin plastered on her face, she turned to Paul who was seated on the next table and said, "Hey, Paul. If you want anything just-"

But instead of Paul, she found herself eye-to-eye with the one and only Beca Branson. Chloe stopped herself at mid-sentence, her grin slowly turning into a pleasantly surprised expression. She couldn't believe it, Beca was sitting right there. The redhead would have jumped out of her seat and join her bodyguard at the other table, but then, the server came in with the pizza, blocking her view, and her gaze immediately had to follow the path of the pizza. After that several seconds, Chloe excitedly looked back at Beca's way, but to her dismay, she found Paul keeping a watchful eye on her instead. _What the hell happened? Where's Beca?_

"Miss Beale, are you alright?"

Chloe opened her mouth to say something, but no words could come out of it.

"Miss Beale?"

She swore she saw Beca! But it would probably be a bad thing to tell Paul about that. So instead, she forced a brief sweet smile with a reassuring nod of her head before staring at the pizza on the table. God, was she really that preoccupied with Beca's being that she was starting to see her everywhere? Frankly, she was subconsciously starting to wish the bodyguard was right there with her, and then nothing would be as bad as they seemed to be.

* * *

Impatiently, Beca tore off that expensive lingerie Stacie was wearing just for the occasion, just for another night with this cold blooded woman who had swept her off of her feet. Then, the same cold blooded woman pinned her down on her bed, holding her hands into place as she explored Stacie's neck with her lips, sucking and biting into her pulse. The taller brunette couldn't help but moan in pleasure, not caring at all if it would surely leave marks on her neck after this session. She wanted to let people know the moment she steps out of the room afterwards that Beca Mitchell drove her to ecstasy that evening anyway. After all, it was the only consolation she could gain from this dirty little arrangement.

"I want to touch you," she pleaded but as expected, Beca only ignored such request by crashing her mouth into one of her partner's perky breasts, quite her favorite. Then soon enough, her hands replaced them, kneading them into her palms, as she continued to trail ghostly kisses down to Stacie's stomach. She flicked her tongue as she moved further down the body just above that part where Stacie needed her to be.

"You don't have to tease, Beca. I need you so bad already."

But those dilated eyes the woman on top shot back up, those dilated dark blue orbs that says how much she starved for sex also, was enough to turn her on even more. Beca crawled up so her face was just inches away from Stacie's. The one at the bottom felt her heart skip a beat. This never happened before. She was seriously anticipating for her lips to touch hers, finally for the first time ever, but the brunette didn't move any further. Instead, she slipped a finger into her partner's inside causing the other to jerk. She pushed another finger in, curled them expertly, sending sweet sensation all over Stacie's body. She watched her partner firmly shut her eyes closed and her head tilting back along with the sound of her delighted groans.

Feeling her walls tighten around her fingers, Beca pulled them out much to the other's frustration. Well, she wasn't going to let the fun end right there. The shorter brunette caressed her partner's inner thighs while she lowered her body down again, ending the movement by dipping her tongue into her partner's opening. She started off with steamy licks and kisses, but of course, Beca Mitchell knew nothing but aggression, resorting to biting and sucking, hurting and pleasuring all at once.

"Fuck," Stacie whimpered matching the bucking of her hips as she held her partner's head further into place.

However, a thundering knock on the door caused them both to stop. Beca sat up, turning her head towards the sudden interruption.

"I know you two are having sex in there." Stan's muffled voice was heard from the other side of the door. "But I'm heading out now, kiddo. Syndics hunting party tonight. If you want to _come_, I-I mean... join me, you better get your tongue out of Conrad's cunt now. I'll meet you at the car."

Hurriedly, Stacie pushed herself up to reach Beca, stopping her to make any move. She grabbed her face, pulling them towards her so she could meet those dark blue orbs.

"Stay," she demanded, subsequently planting kisses on the other's shoulder. "Please?"

For some reason, instead of that curly brunette hair, Beca saw that vibrant red locks flowing against her skin. She abruptly held the woman away and looked into her pair of eyes, and to her surprise, she was looking right through Chloe's bright blue ones. She knew she shouldn't be. So, Beca pulled herself from the bed, away from her companion, and started putting on her black jeans.

"I missed you," she heard Stacie's desperate voice, not a certain redhead's usually cheerful one. Frankly, it was somehow a relief for the cold blooded brunette, ignoring whatever the statement implied. And she was back to her normal self, the one who had mastered the art of being indifferent.

"If you can wait for me, I can fuck you later."

"Oh I can wait, Beca." Stacie bitterly smiled at the other woman's phoenix tattoo glaring back at her. "But I'm surely going to miss you over and over while you're away."

The young Mitchell let out an uncaring huff in response as she wore her black leather jacket then shook her wavy hair into place.

"I missed you when you were away, Beca." Stacie's voice was soft and sweet and filled with so much love and sincerity. It would have liquefied anybody's wall. Unfortunately, except this short woman's barriers. But Stacie Conrad would try her luck anyway. "I missed your lips, the trail of kisses you leave all over my body. I missed your touch, the way I melt with the feeling of your skin upon my skin. I missed your mouth, the way you suck into my pulse, my breasts… the way you make my very soul so alive with just a single touch. I missed your teeth, your angry bites. I missed your lingering hands, your fingers dancing inside me… your tongue driving me wild and crazy. I missed the way you would make me feel so wet and hot. I missed that look in your eyes, that look which tells me that you actually _need_ me, too, Beca… even just for a day, just for a night, or even just for as short as five minutes. I never told you this… but I wish every moment I spend with you would last forever."

Without any word, Beca only managed to start walking towards the door.

"I wish you would stay, Beca," Stacie hurriedly stated, giving this one last try. "I wish we would cuddle up every after sex. I wish you would kiss me on the lips, place your hands on my face as you look into my eyes, then tell me you love me."

But Beca simply put a cigarette stick in between her lips then turned the knob open.

"You can wait here in my room if you want," she instructed the still naked Stacie before walking out the door completely.

Stacie slowly nodded her head as tears started to slip off from her eyes. She pulled the blanket to cover her naked body, but still the feeling of being so used and devalued wouldn't wear off. She looked worse than some cheap prostitute. That's what she got from loving some cold blooded monster. That's what she got from stupidly hoping that Beca Mitchell would change. She was well aware about what was happening, but how do you stop yourself from loving a person you're certain you couldn't live without?

* * *

Chloe wearily sat at the couch while the personnel at the _Chanel_ store present to her every apparel they had available for her to choose from. It's their last day in Vegas and still, her so-called boyfriend was out there somewhere in the city enjoying every bit of this so-called vacation. And it was totally unfair that Chloe wasn't having any fun at all, not even this shopping spree she'd been caught up to all morning couldn't lift off that apparent frown on her face.

"Found anything you like, Miss Beale?" inquired the lady in attendance to the valued costumer.

The young heiress absentmindedly looked up to the bodyguard standing by her side.

"What do you think, Beca?" she asked.

The room suddenly fell silent. The lady staff eyed the man in a black suit from head to toe as if examining his physical features, making sure he was indeed a man. Paul, on the other hand, could only open his mouth slightly, not knowing how to respond to his superior.

"Pardon, Miss Beale?"

That's when Chloe realized what she just said.

"I-I... uh..." she stuttered. "Sorry, the champagne must be getting into my head."

She briefly lifted her glass along with some small chuckles. Besides from the fact that it was her first glass of the day, the sentence alone didn't make a good point overall. But since she's the daughter, the only child to be exact, of one of the richest man in America, the most rational thing to do for the lady staff and the bodyguard was to join the bandwagon and join her awkward chuckles.

"I'd love to see more of this collection, please?" the redhead finally demanded, diverting all the attention from the previous uncomfortable pause. In a snap, the _Chanel _personnel swiftly left the room to gather more apparel for the young heiress.

That awkward pause Chloe was trying to dissolve in time was then immediately forgotten, but much to her apprehension, her mind was still invaded by that certain brunette she'd been constantly thinking about since that time they parted ways at the airport. Okay, so at first, she didn't want to admit that part of the truth, but it had been a couple of days without Beca and surprisingly, the feeling of it was becoming too unbearable. So never mind the fact that she wasn't supposed to be looking for another bodyguard when she had the company of Paul, she was going to ask for Beca.

"Hey, Paul?" she turned to the man in black suit once more, hesitation clearly on display. The bodyguard quickly paid his attention to the young woman. "Where did Beca spend the weekend?"

Shocked by the sudden query, the curly-haired guy shrugged his shoulders. "Well… from what I've heard she's going home, Miss."

"Home," Chloe repeated. All of a sudden, she was trying to picture out what kind of home did Beca Branson had. "Does it mean she had to surrender her earpiece for the meantime?"

Paul nodded his head in affirmation.

"Okay," her voice trailed off.

"Something wrong, Miss Beale?"

Chloe chewed on her lower lip, contemplating if she should ask him what she's been dying to ask since they arrived at Las Vegas.

"Do you have… B-Beca's number?"

Again, for the second time, Paul was caught off guard and could only resort to another shrug as an immediate response.

"I don't think she has a cellphone, Miss." Paul shook his head apologetically. "I heard she only requested for the communication device, insisting it's all she needed. Besides, I don't see her ever using one."

No cellphone? Is that even possible in this day and age of technological development? Okay, it's official, Beca Branson was the weirdest person Chloe had ever met in her entire life. Nevertheless, the redheaded heiress nodded her head slowly along with a forced smile on her lips for Paul's sake. Good thing the _Chanel_ people were finally back. She could just hide her disappointment by trying the clothes on.

* * *

_ Give me a reason why I'm feeling so blue  
__Everytime I close my eyes, all I see is you  
__Give me a reason why I can't feel my heart  
__Everytime you leave my side, I just fall apart_

Stan Mitchell had his entire body shifted to his side facing his little sister who was quietly seated on the driver seat of the shiny gray-colored Aston Martin Volante parked right outside of a convenient store. His mouth was wide open and his face was distorted in complete confusion and bewilderment. Why on earth was the grouchy and too badass Beca Mitchell listening to this kind of music?

_And when you're fast asleep, I wonder where you go  
__Can you tell me, I wanna know_

He knew there was something wrong with her, but he never knew it was this bad. Was she even conscious that Fat Amy's playlist was blasting through the new audio system installed into her car?

_Because I miss you and this is all I wanna say  
__I guess I miss you, beautiful  
__These three words have said it all  
__You know I miss you  
__I think about you when you're gone  
__I guess I miss you, nothing's wrong  
__I don't need to carry on_

He didn't figure it out, but Beca's thoughts were somewhere far away from where they should be. Maybe it was the song playing in her sub-consciousness that she wasn't even totally aware of in the first place, but she found herself thinking about a particular redhead once again. She wondered what Chloe must have been doing in Las Vegas. She wondered if Tom was treating her right, if he's making her feel happy, if he's drawing a cheerful smile on her face, or if he's being a good boyfriend to her. She wondered if Chloe's thinking of her too or maybe just too pleased that she wasn't there with her. No annoying Beca 'The Bodyguard' Branson trailing behind her all the time.

_Give me a reason why I can't concentrate  
__The world is turning upside down  
__Spinning round and round  
__Give me a reason why I now understand  
__The beauty and simplicity of everything surrounding me_

Then, she wondered whether or not Chloe needed saving? Would Timothy or whatever his name is protect her? Could Paul handle the danger all by himself? She was starting to get anxious, the feeling of following them to Las Vegas even though the weekend was almost over was beginning to be an option to Beca. However, she stopped herself from these thoughts when she realized the danger was, in fact, her. Beca Mitchell was the only threat to Chloe Beale's life. And so as long as she stayed away from the ginger, she was just going to be alright. That's the painful truth.

_You got a way of spreading magic everywhere  
__Anywhere I go, I know you're always there  
__It sounds ridiculous, but when you leave a room  
__There's a part of me that just wants to follow you too_

"The second chorus is about to start!" Stan exclaimed, pushing his sister's body slightly. "Beca!"

"What?"

_Because I miss you and this is all I wanna say  
__I guess I miss you, beautiful-_

Realizing the music playing, Beca carelessly threw a punch towards the newly-installed audio system, pulled it off, and disposed it out the window.

"And she's back," the older Mitchell muttered, eyeing his enraged sister.

"What the fuck was that, Stan?"

"I think it's called Cabbage Garden," he innocently replied. "Fat Amy loves that band."

"Why was that crappy song playing in my car?"

"In my defense, you were listening, too," he pointed out.

"No," Beca firmly shook her head.

Stan paused for a moment as the siblings were caught up just staring at one another's eyes trying to figure out what was happening. Beca kept that usual straight face she was familiarly used to display, but then her older brother started laughing. He rolled back on his seat, holding on to his stomach, trying to contain the fit of laughter that just wouldn't stop causing the brunette to grit her teeth as she clenched on the steering wheel.

"Will you stop laughing?" she demanded, but her brother just wouldn't stop. She hated laughter especially when she didn't know what was actually funny. So all she was left to do was to purse her lips together then let out a heavy sigh, wait until the atmosphere could be filled with silence once again.

As Stan finally concluded with his laughter two minutes later, he turned to his sister, a playful grin sitting on his lips.

"Oh my god, you miss her."

"No."

"You do miss her."

"No, I don't," Beca insisted.

Her brother sighed as he leaned back to his seat.

"Come on, it's just the two of us. Brother and sister moment. Admit it, kiddo, you miss her."

"I already told you, Stan. I don't miss that redheaded monster."

The older Mitchell slowly turned his eyes to his sister once again, this time he was beaming victoriously.

"Nobody mentioned about _that_ redheaded monster."

Defeated and annoyed at the same time, Beca let out another long huff, looking blankly straight ahead.

"There's nothing wrong about missing her, you know." Stan shrugged his shoulders. "Well… except from the fact that you shouldn't be."

"I don't miss her. I don't miss anybody. I don't care. I don't give a shit about anything or anyone."

Stan casually nodded his head, "Okay."

Then, there was a minute of silence.

"I'm your brother," he courageously penetrated the wall of tranquility between him and his sister all of a sudden. "I don't want you to ever forget that, kiddo."

Beca turned to look at him, but no word slipped out from her mouth. She simply looked back into his pair of eyes.

"I know how much you believe in the principles of The Secret Society," Stan continued. "You grew up to Phil's teachings and it doesn't surprise me at all when you turned out to be this kind of a… _ruthless_ beast. Everybody's afraid of you, Beca. You'll kill anybody whenever you deem it necessary. Sometimes, even I, myself, tend to forget that you're still a human being."

"Get to the point, Stan."

Stan took a deep breath and smiled at her.

"More than a Phoenix, I am your brother, Beca. I trust you would do the right thing. But no matter how the tide turns, you should know that you will always have me on _your _side of the game."

Beca briefly nodded her head at her brother before returning her gaze to the entrance of the convenient store.

"Then we're both at the side of The Secret Seciety," she concluded. "Fidelity to The Society, right?"

"Right," he muttered.

After some time, they finally spotted their target. A redheaded woman, holding on to a dark-colored suitcase walked out of the convenient store. As expected, she stood there cautiously waiting for the guy she was supposed to meet up with.

"Change of plan," Beca declared. "I'm going in, you'll drive."

"Sure."

With that, they both got off the car. While Stan circled around the convertible towards the driver's seat, Beca nonchalantly walked towards the redheaded woman. As she went closer and closer to her, she noticed that the woman had the same shade of red locks that Chloe Beale had. Coincidentally as well, the woman almost had the same shade of blue in her eyes. The height and built were closely similar, too. Beca was glad she was still making her way towards the target. She wasn't stopping at all. In fact, she was acting like her usual self.

"Donna Jenkins?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for the cash."

Without hesitation, Beca pulled out her pocket knife and plunged it into the redheaded woman's stomach. In shocked by the sudden turn of events, Donna Jenkins held on Beca's arms as she entered the dying stage. The brunette kept the knife in place as she looked directly into those light blue eyes. For a moment, Chloe's face flashed before her, and so more than ever, she required herself to feel nothing. She twisted the knife in her body before pulling it out of the flesh along with the suitcase from the loosed grip then moved backwards approaching the gray Aston Martin Volante waiting for her. But as she did, she kept her gaze at the dying person in front of her, that woman who looked almost exactly like Chloe. So that's how it should feel like to kill Chloe Beale? Supposedly, it should feel nothing. Just in case she had to do it in the future, killing Donna Jenkins was indeed a good practice.

* * *

"I don't trust her, sir."

Luke stood straight as he answered his boss' question. His face was never been this serious and self-assured at the same time.

"And why is that?" asked Clarence Beale.

"I find everything about her suspicious, sir. I am not convinced by the profile we found."

"But she's doing her bodyguard job very well, Luke."

And that last statement made the blonde head of security shut his mouth.

"Okay," the big boss sighed. "I am not dismissing your idea, but next time you report back, you better find some rational evidence that could prove your theory. Until then, Beca Branson will be reporting for duty."

"Yes, sir."

Clarence flicked his hands signaling the man in a black suit to leave, but Luke remained in his original position.

"Sir, are you sure we are still sticking to the plan?"

"What do you mean?"

"You have a battalion of security, sir. I don't understand why you would keep a secret to yourself. You are at liberty to make use of us at your own convenience."

Clarence let out a small chuckle.

"The thing about secrets, Luke, is that the fewer people involved the easier to keep such secrets. Just stick to the plan… guard your assigned posts… keep your eyes wide open… and Phil Mitchell shall fail."

Suddenly, the door to the home office was opened revealing Beca Branson fresh from her weekend off being escorted by two other guards. Luke threw a dirty look at her, but the brunette simply stared at his face as she made her way to the big boss. She stopped right next to where the head of security was standing, only the main office desk positioned between her and the seated Clarence Beale.

"Leave her with me," he instructed and so the rest of the security group had no other choice but to obey the order, leaving Beca behind in the home office.

_"Don't put too much sharpness in your eyes, Beca. You're supposed to be inferior to him." _Fat Amy coached.

"Chloe said you're serious about your job," the man started. "I must say I am very impressed. You are doing an excellent job protecting my daughter, Branson."

_"Congratulations."_

Beca could only nod her head.

"After we pick her up from the airport, you're back to full-time bodyguard. I hope you're ready."

"I am, sir."

Clarence briefly tore their eye contact, contemplating if he should proceed with what he was planning to tell the brunette.

"There are people, _dangerous_ people, who would try everything to get me. I don't care if they do ever reach me. I am just scared for my daughter. She's caught up in this mess because of me. So, Branson, I just really _need_ you to protect her. We can have a little agreement: protect Chloe until all of this is over and I shall reward you with anything you want."

_"Can't he just hand the treasure over now?"_

"What if I fail, sir?"

Fat Amy didn't know, but Beca needed to know the answer. She needed to know the consequence of not being able to protect Chloe. To her surprise, Clarence Beale only put a smile on display.

"Don't worry because there would still be me. When everything else fails, I'll be there to protect my daughter. They'll have to kill me first before they get to Chloe."

And just like that, Beca wished she never asked. Beca wished Clarence Beale didn't answer… because then, she heard Fat Amy's excited voice.

_"Jackpot. It's Chloe."_

* * *

_Song Title: I Miss You - Darren Hayes_

_And I don't mean to offend Savage Garden fans or anybody :) By the way, just in case you're wondering, the phoenix tattoo is different from the emblem. It's much much cooler!_

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Pitch Perfect.


	8. Friends

**_wrrby, BeChloeFan01: _**_Well, that's what you call love..._

**_ThirteenStrikes, cxcxcx386:_**_ Was that really a cliffhanger? Gosh, I didn't intend to. I hate cliffhangers too._

**_writting is love, , Ilumiinous, RobOverstreet: _**_Thanks for the positive review, I hope to see you around more often. :)_

**_Guest:_**_ I enjoyed reading your review. Thank you so much for noticing the way I crafted the chapter. I don't get that a lot._

**_mrebel1992:_**_ You know, I seriously thought I would finish writing the chapter without Fat Amy speaking through the earpiece (that would have been the first), but suddenly the idea of the scene came into mind and I had to write it._

**_lauwer:_**_ Gosh! Donna from Suits! Now I can imagine her that way. LOL. So maybe I don't get to give you that airport scene, but I swear, it's going to be much better. :)_

**_MysticFalls94: _**_This reminds me of Poison & Wine. I guess I just really love writing slow relationship developments. LOL._

_So far, this is the most fun chapter to write. I just hope you get the feeling too. Fun fact: this is the first chapter with a title in plural form. Just wanted to share._

* * *

CHAPTER EIGHT: **Friends**

Beca silently stood at her feet while her redheaded boss, newly-arrived from her trip to Las Vegas during the weekend, unpacked her things on the bed. It was already uncomfortable enough that she was simply standing there doing nothing when she should be out there in the hallway guarding her post, but for some inexplicable reason, the young heiress had asked her to stay. In fact, it was the first thing Chloe had told her since she got back from the so-called vacation. So really, Beca had no other choice but to watch over the redhead who was oddly cheerful by the way. It was rather odd because she remembered the look on Chloe's face at the airport before the couple left for Vegas. She could never forget the gloom in those eyes, those eyes that haunt her every time she closed hers at night. Then, suddenly, Chloe Beale was back and glowing once again.

Well, the most rational explanation for it as Beca figured would be Tom's unusual sense of amorousness towards his lady love. Before parting ways at the airport earlier, in the presence of the rich and powerful Clarence Beale, Timothy or whatever his name planted a sweet goodbye kiss on Chloe's pinkish lips followed by one long embrace. It was too unusual that the element of shock was too evident even on his girlfriend's face. Her father didn't notice, but her official bodyguard did. She did notice because Beca had been attentively watching everything about the ginger.

"Lastly," Chloe popped the bubble of thoughts as she stood from the bed then turned towards her bodyguard, enthusiastically smiling at her. "Of course, I have something for you, too."

"_Aww, that's so sweet."_

But the brunette didn't show any sign of gratitude, appreciation, or surprise at all. She simply fixed her eyes on the grinning ginger.

"It's not much," the redhead said as a matter of fact, looking into her personal luggage for the gift she neatly placed inside just before leaving the elegant Bellagio hotel. "I didn't know what you would like, so I just decided to get you a shirt… okay, here it is… but close your eyes first."

Beca didn't make a move, and so her boss immediately shot her a look.

"Come on, Beca, just close your eyes."

"_Close your eyes!"__  
_

Left with no other choice, Beca took a deep breath and closed her eyes as instructed. For a moment, without the knowledge of her bodyguard, Chloe let herself smile at this very unusual sight of Beca Branson - the sight of this naturally uncanny person who was suddenly at peace, vulnerable, and innocent. She could just stare at her all day in all honesty, but she knew that this unplanned moment needed to end anyway, so she picked up that shirt and proudly held it up.

"You can open your eyes now."

"_Is it cool? Is it cool? Say something. Say something, Beca!"_

Beca opened her eyes and found herself gawking at the shirt in its full front view. It was very simple, actually. It only had the usual _Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas Nevada_ design on display, but what made the brunette really peeved out was the color of the shirt. It was undoubtedly color yellow – the brightest kind she had ever imagined.

"What the fuck is that?"

"This," Chloe smirked at the shirt she was holding, "is what normal people call 'yellow', Beca."

Suddenly, Fat Amy erupted into a fit of laughter.

"_She got you a yellow shirt? Oh we definitely need to take a picture of you wearing that."_

"I'm not going to wear that," the brunette quickly indicated making her redheaded boss groan in complete frustration.

"Beca, come on. Would you put some color into your boring and despicable black world? I _seriously_ think it's going to look good on you."

But the other simply shook her head firmly to assert her disapproval.

"Well," the young heiress sighed, lowering her gaze down to her bare feet, her initial feeling of enthusiasm slowly turning into a shade of melancholy due to her bodyguard's direct refusal. "Back at the store, Paul said this shirt reminded him of my _bright _personality because of the color… I just thought it would have the same effect on you."

"_And what exactly does she mean by that?"_

For one last bargain, the redhead offered, "Could you please at least try it on? Try it on and if you still don't like it, then I won't push anymore."

"_Aww. Come on, Beca. How can you resist that charm?"_

Chloe nervously bit on her lower lip as she slowly took a peek at those dark blue orbs staring directly back at her. She tried to search for any sign of mercy from them, even just the tiniest amount of mercy. But no, Beca Branson just wouldn't give her that. So the young heiress let out another defeated sigh as she held the yellow shirt down.

"Okay, forget that I even bought you a gift."

She was about to turn her heels around and regretfully dump that stupid yellow shirt back to where it came from, but then she felt Beca's soft touch upon her skin for the second time in her life. Incredibly, it still felt the same. It still felt like some sort of a safe haven.

Startled, Chloe quickly shifted her gaze from the hand compellingly holding her arm to Beca's softened eyes. She was so mesmerized by the rare occasion – the appearance of that uncommon look on those eyes – that she didn't even notice that the brunette, with her other hand, had slowly pulled the garment from her loose grip already.

"It's _rude_ to take a gift back," the brunette whispered as she gradually let go of her boss's arm, but still maintaining their eye contact.

"_Of course, you're the expert on Rude 101."_

Lost in the moment, Chloe could only match the low volume of Beca's voice.

"So would you try it on now?"

Without warning, Beca started taking her black leather jacket off causing discomfort to the other person present in the room.

"What are you doing?" the redhead abruptly questioned, realizing what was about to unfold before her very eyes.

"_Just what are you doing to her again, Beca?"_

But the woman in question kept her mouth shut, not bothering to answer any of the inquiries from both ladies. She gave her boss one last look as she dropped the leather jacket down to the floor, and then held on to the hem of her inner shirt ready to pull it off of her body. In panic, Chloe deliberately made her bodyguard turn around, pushed her towards the direction of the bathroom, but her efforts were already too late. Beca had removed her inner shirt, leaving her upper body with only her pair of bra and her phoenix tattoo on display. The redhead immediately stopped, disoriented by the sight of such fictional creature in the most stunning art form she had ever imagined. If only that stupid piece of clothing would stop blocking the full view.

"Wow," was all she could utter.

"_Let me guess, you're nude now and she's staring at your awesome phoenix tattoo."_

Still, Beca didn't say a word. Not wanting to give the other the opportunity to formulate a question on the newly-revealed piece of her life, she subsequently put the yellow shirt on covering up the tattoo, and then turned around to face her boss once again.

"There," she said. "Happy now?"

Slowly, Chloe's lips curved into a genuine sneer. This was definitely a miracle - Beca Branson wearing that yellow Las Vegas shirt.

"Why did you buy me this?" asked the brunette, curiously.

Again, the redhead nervously chewed on her lip as she gave her the only answer.

"I was hoping you'd remember me whenever you wear it."

"_Okay, you know, that sounds kind of something."_

But Beca chose to brush the theory off and let out a huff before gathering her discarded clothes on the carpeted floor.

"Paul had informed me that you're probably tired from the trip, so I'd let you take some rest now."

Instead of ratifying the idea, Chloe immediately stood in front of the shorter woman, stopping her from proceeding to the only exit out of the bedroom.

"C-Can you not stay?" she hesitantly inquired, earning a questioning look from the bodyguard. "I didn't get to see you or talk to you for the entire weekend. I-I'm just _wondering_ if… you know, we could… c-catch up."

"_Beca and Chloe sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G…"_

Shocked by the sudden request, Beca couldn't arrange a response to that, let alone process Fat Amy's silly song quietly and mockingly playing in her earpiece. Nevertheless, to make things a lot easier for all of them, she simply followed Chloe out to the balcony where the beautiful landscape of the backyard garden along with the outdoor pool was in view right below. Beca stood next to the redhead and watched another smile crept out of those lips.

"You know, I spent the weekend thinking about a lot of things," the young heiress told her, but her pair of eyes was directed at the blue sky above them. "I've been preoccupied with Tom, Aubrey, my dad, the danger he'd been trying to protect me from…"

"_Keep her talking. This is your chance, Beca."_

"What about your dad?" Beca quickly asked, performing her secret task.

Chloe shrugged her shoulders before answering. "Ever since he returned from being kidnapped, he's been _extra_ careful about everything. Well, I can't blame him. People out there will probably kill us if we don't put up these walls."

"Why would they kill you anyway?"

"I don't know," the redhead shook her head along with a confused expression on her face. "I just know my dad did something terrible."

"_She knows something."_

Beca was fully aware that an elaboration of the statement would only put Chloe's life into more danger than it had already been especially with Fat Amy listening through the spy communication device.

"Are you scared?" she asked instead.

"I used to be," Chloe nodded her head before turning to the bodyguard standing next to her. "But now I feel safer than ever."

"How is that?"

The young heiress let out a small smile and replied, "Because from now on, I have you… all the time… 24/7, in fact."

"_I… I-I'm not sure how to feel about that, Beca."_

"I have you and I feel like nobody can ever hurt me," the redhead added.

"_If only she knew you're one of those people who want to hurt her."_

Chloe took a deep breath then shifted her entire body to face the brunette who had been unresponsive the whole time.

"You may be the creepiest person I've ever met, Beca, but surprisingly, I've never felt this safe with anybody else."

"Not even with your boyfriend?" Beca heard herself inquire.

The redhead slowly shook her head.

"Not even."

And Beca Branson was beyond speechless. Not even Fat Amy could utter a word.

"You know what's funny?" the third person in this conversation let out a soft chuckle. "It's the fact that I can trust you with my whole life, but I know _nothing_ about you."

Chloe paused to give the other person a chance to butt in, but she spoke no word at all, so the young heiress continued with her statement.

"I understand Luke for being so suspicious of you. Nobody knows where you came from. You just… _appeared_ in our lives one day. You could be an alien from Mars, you know." She let out another chuckle at her weird hypothesis, but she checked on Beca and still she wasn't making any reaction. "I don't know where you live. I don't know if you have people counting on you. I don't know anything about your personal life or your past. I don't know how you've become this person that you are now. I just know… you're Beca Branson."

"_Unfortunately, Beca Branson is just a lie. And she sadly doesn't know that too."_

"Beca?" Chloe called for her attention causing the brunette to finally leave her bubble of thoughts. "I want to meet people in your life."

"What?" the other croaked.

"_What exactly is she trying to do here?"_

"I want to meet your family or your friends," the redhead expounded the idea. "I want to be part of your world, Beca. I want you to let me in."

Beca Branson was too dumbfounded at all these bizarre words coming out of her boss' mouth. To be honest, this ginger had been driving her insane since the story behind that yellow shirt. Too much information to process and handle, Beca couldn't articulate the proper responses.

And Chloe simply added, "That's an order."

"_Looks like the rest of the team will be going undercover too!"_

While Fat Amy was making these excited squeals, Chloe dragged her bodyguard, in her most promising state of a very quiet cricket, back to the bedroom, making a halt at the foot of the bed. Again, the redhead looked into her personal luggage while Beca followed her every move with her eyes. Then after some time, Chloe pulled out this small black box obviously containing a brand new iPhone5 and handed it over to the brunette.

"That's for you," she casually declared.

"_What is that?"_

"What is this?" questioned Beca, confusion painted all over her face.

"It's an iPhone, idiot."

"_She bought you an iPhone, Beca?"_

Fat Amy's loud gasps soon invaded Beca's left ear.

"I know it's an iPhone, but why are you giving this to me?"

The redhead shrugged her shoulders and sheepishly replied, "I heard you don't have a phone. Just in case they ever suspend you again without your earpiece, I still want to be able to reach you."

But Beca was still wearing this questioning look on her face.

"Well," the young heiress sighed. "I just really hate the feeling of missing you."

"_Pretending I didn't hear a thing."_

The brunette immediately opened her mouth to say something, but Chloe already went back to unpacking her things, signaling the end of their conversation with that thought-provoking statement. So the bodyguard was left on her own discretion. She sighed at the gift in her hand, not to mention the yellow shirt she was still wearing. Still not able to process everything in her head, she left the room without any word, leaving the redheaded heiress to glance at the closed door as if struggling to adjust to the sudden absence of the other.

Well, for the sake of contemplation, as an addition to the things Chloe Beale didn't know about was that Beca, both Branson and Mitchell, just really hated the feeling of missing the ginger too. Frankly, she didn't even need the yellow shirt to remind her. Those red locks and her pair of bright blue eyes simply invaded her thoughts constantly.

* * *

Stan stood in between Blue and Red, the two bald men who worked directly for Phil, as they escorted him to the Green Room where the group leader was already waiting, expecting for his arrival. The younger Mitchell threw annoyed looks towards the direction of his escorts before directing his eyes to his father who was, physically calmly though mentally agitated, seated on his seat by the desk. He waited for the old man to speak up, but he simply smoked on his cigarette as if no visitor had arrived into his lair.

"So what am I doing here?" Stan asked.

"You really need to be as quiet as your sister, you know. You always forget that your job here is to follow orders. _I_ make the demands, Stan."

The younger Mitchell sighed at the customary comparison to his sister as well as at another reprimand from his father who was obviously very fond of her

"The special mission is very crucial to the organization," the group leader started. "Beca cannot fail."

"She _won't _fail," his son guaranteed confidently. "Beca never fails, does she?"

Phil inhaled on his cigarette then let out one long blow of smokes out of his mouth before finally turning his eyes on the person in front.

"Your sister had been working too slow than the usual, don't you think?"

At first, Stan was dazed at the unexpected reflection, but then he started chuckling upon the realization of the ridiculousness of the context.

"You have to be kidding me, dad," he said, still stiffing a laugh.

His father automatically threw a dirty look at him.

"Do I ever joke, Stan?"

"Of all people, you suspect _Beca_ to betray the organization?"

His father didn't answer. He simply stared blankly at him. And so realizing his father was indeed serious about the raised suspicion, Stan's face suddenly turned strong. His facial muscles curled up in an obvious picture of frustration.

"Really, dad? That's what you think?" He angrily slammed his hands on the desk, his words were filled with so much anger that Blue and Red were on their way to restrain the young man, but their boss lifted his hand to stop them. "Beca has proven her fidelity to The Society more than anybody here has!"

But Phil kept his mouth shut.

"She _killed_ mom, for fuck's sake!" the younger Mitchell screamed into his father's face. "She killed our _mother_ just so she could join this fucking organization! And you still think she would turn out to be a traitor? Isn't that enough for you?"

A smirk silently appeared on Phil's pair of lips.

"Oh I'll never forget the I-don't-give-a-shit look on your sister's face when she killed Veronica."

Stan gritted his teeth at his father's amusement.

"She was _your_ wife."

"I know," the father coolly nodded his head. "Still, she couldn't understand what was at stake here. 'We're doing fine, Phil. Just let the system be,' she said. Well, the system is too fucked up already, somebody has to fix it. Beca could fix it, you know… but Veronica kept on standing in the way. She needed to go, Stan."

The son firmly shook his head in frustration then pushed himself up, ready to leave the room any moment.

"Well, it's not really Beca I'm worried about. It's _you. _And your influence on her."

And that made Stan stopped at his track. Without looking back to his father, he waited for the continuation. He knew there was something more about that revelation and he needed to hear it.

"I wish you could be more like your sister. I want you to watch her and learn from her, let her be a good example to you not the other way around. I need you to be on the same boat with her, Stan. I already know which side Beca is on… but what about you?"

Startled at first, knowing the weight of the question when the group leader throws the question at you, but knowing the trap which lies on it, Stan managed to confidently declare, "Fidelity to The Society."

Satisfied but not truly convinced by the answer, Phil nodded his head.

"You're my son, but I have to remind you that the code is Fidelity to The Society… not Fidelity to Anybody Else. It's _just_ The Secret Society."

And Stan could only nod his head in response.

"Beca and I will be on the same boat, dad. Don't worry about that."

With that, Stan left the premise of the room, his track silently followed by his father's gaze.

"So is he clear now, boss?" Blue inquired.

"Just keep an eye on him," answered Phil, lighting up another cigarette stick. "I know he's already watching over his sister, but with motives and intentions that are contrary to mine. Stan has his mother's tendencies. I can't afford anybody corrupting the mind of my best weapon. Clarence Beale is going down. Beca will bring him down. If Stan tries to stop her, you know what to do, boys."

Blue and Red exchanged pleased looks at the new task they were given.

"Kill him if necessary."

* * *

In spite of Aubrey's assertion, they ditched the initial plan to go to a fancy restaurant and settled with a lunch date at a local diner per Fat Amy's request through Beca. Luckily, the big booth was available for them otherwise there would have been no way to fit them all in that ridiculously small regular ones. Still, the entire seating arrangement was making Beca highly uncomfortable and obviously irritated as she was sandwiched between Chloe and Fat Amy in the semi-circle booth. The equally annoyed Aubrey Posen sat next to her best friend while the Australian chick had the subtle Jesse Swanson by her side.

"So what else do you want, guys?" Chloe was all smiles when she turned to the rest of the group after ordering more food than necessary for all of them. "Please order anything you like."

"Are you going to pay?" Fat Amy innocently inquired, and the shorter woman sitting next to her had to throw her a glare. "I'm just asking."

But the redheaded heiress eagerly nodded her head towards the fat blonde.

"Yes, of course. Just order anything you like."

Jesse suddenly had this embarrassed look on his face as he turned to her.

"You should've not said that. She's going to-"

"Give me a little bit of everything," Fat Amy told the waitress, cutting Jesse off, who was definitely taken aback at the unusual order. She turned to the ginger and Chloe just smiled positively at her in response. "And Diet Coke, please? I don't want to get too fat."

Aubrey deliberately rolled her eyes in annoyance. Beca's so-called friends were already getting on her nerves. Why on earth did she agree to come to this meet up?

"I'm fine with what you ordered," Jesse shyly glanced at the heiress.

"Aubrey?" Chloe turned to her best friend.

"Do you have anything here that won't give me a heart attack?"

"Caesar Salad," the redhead simply answered in behalf of the blonde, not wanting to cause any more inconvenience to the waitress. "And just give her sparkling water."

The waitress nodded her head then directed her eyes towards the brunette, "You?"

Everybody turned their attention to Beca as if her order would matter to the whole wide world making her more exasperated than she already was. She slightly lifted her head and directed those sharp eyes to the waitress who suddenly just wanted to leave that particular booth, and said, "Water."

The waitress frantically wrote it down and left for the kitchen in a hurry. The booth was immediately filled with awkward silence causing the redheaded heiress to become restless with the current atmosphere.

"Um, Beca, aren't you going to introduce us to one another?" Chloe turned to her bodyguard, desperate for the commencement of a conversation.

Beca let out a heavy sigh and muttered, "You are all old enough to do that without my supervision."

While Fat Amy laughed at the retort, Chloe shook her head in disapproval. Her best friend rolled her eyes once again.

"I'm Chloe, and this is my best friend, Aubrey."

She put on another charming smile as she extended her hand to the Australian blonde who stared at the hand at first but powerfully shook it in the end anyway.

"I'm Fat Amy."

"You call yourself 'Fat Amy'?" Aubrey asked in disbelief.

"You're not blind, are you?"

For the third time since they arrived at the diner, Aubrey Posen rolled her eyes.

"You really are Beca's friend, aren't you?"

"I'm Jesse," the guy immediately introduced himself purposely to stop the growing bickering between the two blondes, offering a friendly smile at Chloe. "Thank you so much for inviting us."

But even before Chloe could make any response, a tall and handsome young man sporting his trademark irresistible boyish grin stood by the booth and playfully ran his eyes on the group before him.

"I know I'm late, but you don't need to scowl at me, Beca."

Chloe immediately turned to her sulking bodyguard with a questioning look while her best friend already had her jaw dropped down, completely in awe by the amazingly gorgeous person in front of her.

"Stan!"

Fat Amy excitedly and forcefully pushed Jesse away to give room for the newly-arrived member of the group. However, the blonde heiress surprisingly stood up and extended her hand to the man.

"The name is Aubrey. Aubrey Posen," she introduced herself with adequate confidence and a little too magisterial than necessary. "My family owns several businesses all over the country."

Okay, Aubrey looked stunning on that lavender dress, but Stan was a little turned off by the imposing attitude shown by the lady, but anyway, managed to flash a friendly smile towards her and briefly shook her hand.

"I'm Stan, Beca's older brother," he revealed much to the surprise of the two strangers. This man is Beca's brother and she's nothing like him in terms of attitude. "Oh, and our family doesn't contribute as much as yours to the _capitalist_ industry."

Taking this as a cue, Chloe stood up to introduce herself also.

"I'm Chloe. Please don't mind my best friend, she's just... being her usual self, but she's great."

"Oh so you're the famous Chloe Beale." Stan shook her hand as he threw quick mocking glances at his sister. "Wow, kiddo. You never told us that your boss is actually quite beautiful. I've heard lots of stories about you, Chloe."

Beca huffed silently in her seat.

Suddenly, the young heiress blushed at the confession. "I couldn't imagine Beca telling stories about me. It's pretty hard to squeeze a word from her, you know."

"Oh she talks about you the entire weekend."

"He's lying," the brunette spoke the truth. Well, everybody had been listening to all the recorded conversations saved in Fat Amy's laptop.

"Please have a seat," Chloe said.

"Here," Aubrey quickly offered the seat next to her. "There's plenty of room right here, you can seat next to me, Stan."

But Stan made his way towards the space between Jesse and Fat Amy. "That's so nice of you, Aubrey, but I only sit next to this blonde bombshell."

The blonde heiress was initially taken aback by the decision. No man had ever rejected her. However, she managed to flash a fake understanding smile before taking her seat. To add more fuel to the fire, Fat Amy had to throw a devilish triumphant grin towards her fellow blonde.

"1-0."

Good thing the first set of food was served at the table, otherwise Aubrey would have given the Australian chick a good fight.

"So what exactly are we doing here?" Stan needed to ask.

"Well," Chloe nervously shrugged her shoulders. It felt like being interrogated by your in-laws. "Just a little get-together or something."

"Do you normally do this with your other bodyguards?" asked Fat Amy.

Chloe paused for a moment, not knowing what would be the proper answer to that question. Everybody had their eyes on her including her best friend, and it started to feel like being on the hot seat.

"Beca is the only personal bodyguard I've ever had. It was my dad's idea in the first place."

"So all of a sudden your dad thinks you immediately need a bodyguard?"

"Well... it's kind of hard to explain..."

"You can try."

The young heiress sighed. "You've probably heard about it on the news. My dad got kidnapped a few weeks ago and so he just wanted to make sure that we are very well protected."

"Why would they kidnap your dad?"

"I-I... M-My dad is..." Chloe was starting to stammer, struggling to answer the questions that just kept on coming from Beca's friends.

"What does your dad do exactly?" Jesse innocently posted a more basic question for her.

"I-I don't want to sound like a cock-a-hoop, but my dad owns a multinational corporation... Phoenix Corporation. Maybe you, guys, have heard of it. Here and abroad, they own hotels, malls, resorts, airlines and aircraft manufacture, restaurant chains-"

"Yes, of course, we've heard about Phoenix Corporation," Stan agreed, cutting her off in the process. "It's a very big corporation, indeed. Your family must be very _very_ wealthy. The government should be earning millions of taxes from your dad alone... but losing more if there's… perhaps, a hidden wealth somewhere. A hidden wealth that your dad doesn't want people to discover."

Chloe opened her mouth to respond, but she was already too overwhelmed by the implications of the entire statement. Luckily again, the rest of the meal was served to the table, rendering more time to think about her response. However, she instantly remembered the purpose of this lunch date. She wanted to get to know Beca. She wanted to know the different aspects of her bodyguard's life. Instead, without even realizing, she was the one already being interrogated on the spot.

"Could we all please eat in peace?" Beca, for the third time she spoke, came to her rescue, fishing out an onion ring to eat. And as if her words were the words of a supreme being, Stan, Jesse, and Fat Amy all shut their mouths and proceeded with eating their lunch. Chloe and Aubrey could only express their shock at how much these people respected the notorious brunette.

"Fuck."

_Accidentally_ or probably it was intentional on Fat Amy's part, either way Stan's plain white shirt was stained by the blood red ketchup and so to his dismay, he took his shirt off and threw it to the side revealing the beautiful set of abs he got. The two newbies to this nonstandard reaction could only exchange looks and gulped at the view. This lunch date with Beca's friends was indeed filled with awkward silences and conversations, but Stan was definitely making it more than exciting.

* * *

Chloe couldn't believe it. This time, she couldn't even trace which question it all began, but she was being grilled by Beca's friends and brother once again. She was positive she did ask a question about her bodyguard, but along the way, it became a version of ask 21 questions about Chloe Beale's personal life. She'd been ask about her father and their lifestyle before, but surprisingly, these three were posting trickier ones than magazines do that it already felt being interrogated at some point. Anyhow, Chloe tried her best to give them the answers. For the first time ever, she was secretly thankful that Beca was a quiet cricket who didn't say any word or ask any question. She simply went from one dish to another until her glass of water was finally empty.

"Hey, it's my father's birthday in a few days," Aubrey was directing her eyes on Beca's brother. "He's throwing a party, of course. Would you like to come?"

"Sure."

Stan ignored that blank stare from his sister, and smiled at the blonde heiress.

"Give me your address, I'll be sending you the invitation."

"Just send it through Beca."

"I'm coming too then," Fat Amy butted in.

Aubrey automatically glared at the blonde. "But I'm not inviting you."

"It's okay, Fat Amy." Stan turned to her. "I'll be fine."

While Fat Amy gasped in disbelief, Aubrey Posen wore that victorious grin and muttered, "I guess we're tied to 1."

Sensing a catfight between the two was about to happen, Stan who was still half naked by the way, stood up and moved away from the table.

"Who wants to go check out that jukebox?"

Hurriedly, the two blondes shot up from their respective seats and followed the man to the huge musical box at the other end of the diner leaving the normally quiet Beca, the very shy Jesse, and Chloe who was slowly dying from silent treatment.

Suddenly, Beca let out a heavy sigh and stood up as well.

"W-Where are you going?" Jesse asked as if afraid to be left alone with the redheaded heiress.

"I'm going to the ladies' room, Jesse, you wanna come?"

Was that a question he needed to answer? Nevertheless, Jesse stayed on his seat and played with the remaining fries on his plate. _This is it_, Chloe concluded. This was the only opportunity she could have to execute her motives for this lunch date.

"Hi, Jesse," she put on her best friendly smile towards the guy.

"Um… hello…"

"To tell you honestly, I asked Beca to invite you, guys, because I wanted to get to know her," she explained and Jesse nodded in understanding. "She's entrusted with my life, but she remains to be a mystery to me."

Jesse let out a small laugh. "How ironic. People think Beca's a mystery when in fact she's very transparent. What you see is what you get, that's Beca."

But Chloe needed more.

"If she hates you, she's not going to hide that. She may not utter a word, but she'll definitely be generous with death glares and that's _way _scarier, believe me."

"And if she likes you?"

"That's the thing. Beca never likes anybody."

"Didn't she ever has a relationship with someone?"

Before answering, Jesse cautiously looked around to make sure Beca was out of the proximity of the conversation.

"She has a fuck buddy," he replied in a whisper. "I think you could consider that."

"Fuck buddy," Chloe repeated just to make sure.

"If you want to be with Beca or in Stacie's case, you become _very_ much in love with the crazy monster that you desperately want her to love you back, fuck buddy relationship is your highest possible connection. She gets to _pleasure _you almost all the time. Yes, pleasure. I have a list of girls who can testify to that."

"Why don't Beca just make this Stacie her girlfriend?"

Jesse couldn't help but laugh at the idea. Another big joke if you ask him.

"Girlfriend means you kiss her on the lips; Beca doesn't do that. Kissing on the lips is an expression of love or something; Beca doesn't _fall in love_. Therefore, your proposal would be absurd because that wouldn't be Beca at all."

"What if she changes?"

"I've known Beca for years, Chloe. That's what she is. She was made to be this way. She's just ruthless, coldblooded, and callous. And nobody could ever change that. Not me or Fat Amy. Not even Stacie or Stan."

So that's Beca. Chloe was digging in too hard, she didn't realize she had already seen everything Beca could offer. She's this very quiet cricket with a metal heart that's locked up in that sad, sad zoo.

"You've seen her back tattoo, right?" Jesse turned to her, and she nodded her head absentmindedly forgetting that the incident happened only in the presence of two people – herself and Beca. "She's like a phoenix. You see her alive right now, but she's been dead too many times. Beca is a walking dead."

"Kimmy Jin called," Beca suddenly appeared, her eyes were directed to Chloe. She didn't look furious so Jesse figured he was safe. "You have a business meeting in an hour. We have to go."

"But your friends," Chloe protested.

"I can handle them." Beca turned to Jesse, and the guy automatically nodded his head. "I'll go talk to Stan."

"Okay, let me just get the bill then."

"Keep your money, I already paid," was all Beca's response before heading to the jukebox machine where Stan was trying to prevent a catfight between his two blonde companions, and leaving Jesse to eye the redheaded heiress who had her mouth opened in disbelief for what her bodyguard just did. Her rich boyfriend would never do that.

* * *

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Pitch Perfect.


	9. Stripper

_I find it really ironic that this story has very few 'viewers' yet I get tons of responses. Really happy right now. Thanks, people, for not being very quiet crickets! :)_

**_RobOverstreet, ItsLazyGurl: _**_Beca is a complicated character. In order to understand her, I think it's important that we understand her dark history as well which contributes a lot to the kind of persona that she has now. So I'm really sorry if I'm causing those kinds of emotions. And thank you for giving me another reason to continue writing :)_

**_PitchPerfectLover:_**_ Neither do I :)_

**_apple-jacs, LaRevolte, lauwer, writting is love, madness2013:_**_ There's a reason why Jesse doesn't work in the field. LOL._

**_teasingyourtears: _**_By saying that you won't be a Beca, does it mean you won't be a quiet cricket? :) Man, there's the expectation of being unpredictable again. I guess that's kind of my thing now, huh?_

**_mrebel1992:_**_ Well, he's just really a complete douchebag :) I appreciate your obsession very much._

**_cxcxcx386:_**_ First of all, thank you so much for the wonderful review, and for noticing the contrasts that I put into the story. Beca's character alone makes it so dark and so I have to mix in the other characters like Fat Amy to add some color into it. I'm glad that it's actually working. Now to answer your question, Phil is definitely the biological father although I know he doesn't seem to act like it. And a little correction: Beca's mission was not to kill Chloe, but she might have to do it at some point. Who knows?_

**_wrrby, Guest:_**_ I guess you'll have to tune in to see who's going to win the catfight :)_

**_MysticFalls94:_**_ Phil's character is not intended to be likable anyway, dear. So are putting all those colors at once. LOL._

**_BeChloeFan01:_**_ Got the idea from my aunt's habit :)_

**_gleekathoner:_**_ Salamat! :)_

**_lauwer: _**_The hidden earpiece is somewhat like a covert earpiece so that only Beca could hear Fat Amy. Yes, it's wireless so taking her clothes off wouldn't be a problem at all._

**_Ilumiinous: _**_On the other hand, your reviews are my joy!__ :)_

**_Moxain:_**_ Thanks for the love :)_

_About the chapter... nothing much, really. It's pretty easy to just put 'Revelations' as the title, but I wanted to stick to the pattern. I know it's kind of intriguing, but you'll get it. :) I think it's safe to say that this is where Beca starts to become more human. Oh, love love love..._

* * *

CHAPTER NINE: **Stripper**

_"I seriously need to take a nap. I'm sure you'll be fine, Beca."_

Beca could hear Fat Amy's loud long yawn fading out through her earpiece, and so she let out a small huff as a positive response. It's already past three in the morning and she knew that the two security guards posted at the end of the hallway must be dozing off by then. It's the graveyard shift again, but she won't let anybody else take it. When Paul offered so that she could take some rest, she only shot him a death glare. They won't get it, but apparently, she didn't need some rest. All she needed was to stay on her post and guard that pink door decorated with flowers and butterflies. She just needed to protect the person at the other side of it. That's her job as the bodyguard.

With everybody else already asleep, she remained seated on the carpeted floor, Indian style; her brand new iPhone, a gift from her lady boss, was clenched in her hands as she played _Jaws Revenge_. It was probably because of the fact that finally she was getting better at it or simply because it was naturally brutal that Beca found herself enjoying the game even in her physically emotionless state.

_Click._

It was the sound of the pink door digitally unlocked. Alarmed, Beca hurriedly stood straight up as the door gently opened, and then it happened again – two shades of blue staring at one another. Beca and Chloe were staring at each other a little too long and a little too warm. It wasn't normal, they knew. But it was already past three in the morning when most crazy and stupid things normally happen.

"Why are you-"

Chloe started her question but stopped mid-sentence when Beca told her to keep quiet as she nodded her head towards the two dozing security guards. Seeing this, the redhead grabbed her bodyguard's hand and dragged her inside the unlit room, making a halt right by the foot of the bed. She then turned around to meet those dark blue eyes once again – those dark blue eyes that looked much more striking with just the faint moonlight slithering through the opened balcony door.

"Do you ever sleep, Beca Branson?" she then asked curiously.

"I'm human, am I not?"

"But you're a _creepy_ one most of the time."

Beca huffed at the retort and ignored that smirk posted on her boss' lips. "Why are you still awake? It's past your bedtime."

"I'm not a kid anymore," the redhead rolled her eyes. "I'm allowed to stay awake for as late as I want to."

And the bodyguard slowly nodded her head, clearly no longer interested in whatever was about to prosper in the course of this conversation. But her eyes caught the opened door to the balcony where a pink sleeping bag was neatly laid down on the floor along with a half-eaten and probably already cold sandwich.

"I couldn't sleep," Chloe immediately explained before her eyes fell on the device still clenched in Beca's hand. The redheaded heiress snickered briefly at the thought of the bodyguard trying to make use of her gift. Then, without warning, she put a hand on Beca's and pulled it up to lock the glowing screen. "Did you ever own a cell phone?"

Quite frankly, no. Well, Beca didn't need it anyway. Phoenixes simply used spy devices to communicate. Well, she couldn't tell that to the ginger, so she kept her mouth shut and fixed a blank stare instead. She silently stood there and followed Chloe's moves with her eyes. A pair of dark blue orbs followed the redhead's delicate hand reaching for the visible earpiece hanging on Beca's right ear, and then carefully placed it on top of the coffee table. Those eyes followed the redhead as she walked out into the open-air, settling down on the sleeping bag.

"What are you waiting for? Come over here, you creep."

And so Beca let out another annoyed sigh before making her way towards the balcony, sitting next to her boss on that sleeping bag, her ass covering four or five of the many faces of Hello Kitty printed on the surface of the material.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Chloe directed her eyes up to the night sky, to that full moon still on display.

The brunette simply followed the gaze in response.

Correctly guessing that her companion had already decided not to say a word as usual, Chloe turned to look at her, satisfying herself by examining Beca's face as the bodyguard kept her watch on the celestial body floating above them. Times like this, Beca Branson seemed to be out of character.

"Do you know that there's a superstitious belief that the full moon rejuvenates feelings of love," the redhead paused for a moment, debating in her mind whether or not to continue with her trivia, "and kindles pent-up emotions?"

To her dismay, her companion didn't make any response. No nod or headshake; not even a stare. Just plain nothing.

"Is there anything you find beautiful, Beca?" she asked inquisitively.

Wordless, the brunette reached out for her pocket knife and showed it to Chloe. The heiress stared at it for a moment, then grabbed it in her hand, and went back inside to place it on the coffee table next to the previously discarded earpiece. She went back to her seat next to the brunette, and Beca could only stare at her, realizing what the heiress was trying to do. Chloe Beale was slowly stripping her down.

"This is the first phone I've ever had."

Beca decided to test her hypothesis, and true enough, Chloe grabbed the phone from the grip. But this time, she simply placed it on the gap between them. She was indeed stripping her down, stripping down the revealed pieces, leaving the unknown characteristics yet to be exposed.

"Your brother is really nice," the heiress remarked. "Aubrey is obviously smitten by his charm. But is he, like, dating Fat Amy?"

_Fat Amy._ No sound was heard through the hidden earpiece in her left ear. That's when it hit Beca that Fat Amy was not at the other side of the line, for her partner in crime was already deep asleep back at Pandemonium. For the last several minutes, there was just Beca and Chloe… for the first time since they've met. Additionally, as Chloe was stripping Beca down for the night, there was no Fat Amy to coach the brunette on what to say or do. This was just going to be her with the woman she had long labeled as the redheaded monster. Surprisingly, after all this time, Beca Mitchell had never felt this exposed and naked.

"So what do they do for a living?" Chloe inquired when the bodyguard did not offer any response to the initial question, remembering the fact that she never had the chance to ask about them. It was as if a little connivance was made and all questions were directed at the young heiress.

"Jesse is an IT expert," the brunette finally replied, but careful with her words. She was rude and all, but at least she wanted to be honest with Chloe. She wanted to tell her the truth; well, at least half of it. "Fat Amy is a professional mermaid dancer."

Chloe immediately shot a confused look.

"You don't want to see her perform," the other warned, and so the redhead immediately nodded her head making a mental note to herself.

"What about Stan?"

"He used to be a stripper."

Okay, that last one was a lie, but for Beca, it was the only idea she could come up with to explain her brother's exhibitionist tendencies and not make him appear to be a creep. Chloe already thought that his sister was creepy enough; they just couldn't look like one creepy family.

"So what does he do now?"

"Something," Beca paused for a moment to let her brain come up with a follow up to that, "that is… vital… to the existing socio-economic system."

Another smirk crept out of the ginger's lips.

"That sounds pretty awesome."

The brunette simply nodded as a response, secretly relieved that her boss didn't ask her to elaborate on it. What would she say anyway? That she and her brother were some kind of criminals?

"What about your parents?" Chloe went on with her agenda. "They must be doing something interesting too."

"They're dead," casually muttered the other.

The small glint of amusement abruptly faded away from the redhead's face, consequently turning her head towards her companion to check for any hint of sarcasm or jest. She found nothing but another emotionless expression on Beca's face.

"I'm sorry, I-I didn't-"

Beca immediately cut her off, "Apology doesn't bring back the dead."

But still, Chloe couldn't resist the _emphatic_ feeling quickly filling her being. She kept her eyes on the bodyguard's face as she resisted the urge to hold Beca's hand for comfort. There's the possibility that she could do something stupid if she gave in to the impulse, so she opted to stay in place instead. Nevertheless, the pressure of doing something in return won't go away.

"My mom passed away when I was four," she revealed.

Beca frantically turned to the redhead and found that frown on her face. No, she never intended to make the woman disclose something like that to her. That information was too much, too private. Thankfully, Fat Amy was not there to hear it, but definitely, this conversation was left to be recorded. Suddenly, inside, she was starting to panic. She couldn't let everybody else hear it, but what could she do?

"9-4-2-1-4," Chloe spoke again. This time, she had a bittersweet smile on along with a pair of teary eyes. "1994, February 14th. That's the day I lost her."

The password!

"I didn't know she was gone," was all Beca could utter.

"Well, where do you think she is?" the ginger chuckled. "You don't see her around here, do you?"

"I think she just walked by the hallway when-" the bodyguard was about to joke but was immediately stopped by Chloe's hand hitting her on the arm. The heiress had that minor freaked out look on her face, but suddenly contorted in confusion with a mixed of contemplation. Wait, was Beca Branson about to make a joke?

Realizing the implication of what she almost did, Beca returned her gaze to the full moon ignoring the smirk on the redhead's face directed straight towards her.

"Come on, Beca, tell me a joke."

But the brunette simply let out an irritated huff.

"Just one joke. I need to know you're a human being."

Still, the other brushed off the request.

"Okay, I'll start." Chloe made an excited squeal. "What does a bird's phone sound like?"

She turned to her companion who gave her no response, not even an uncaring sigh, but the redhead continued with the joke anyway. Imitating the sound of a phone ringing, she enthusiastically pronounced, "Wing wing."

Chloe had a wide grin plastered on her face when the brunette turned to her with another blank stare.

"It's so corny, right?" the heiress' face instantly fell as she criticized her own joke. "Okay, I got another one. Prepare to laugh this time, Beca Branson."

She briefly pointed a warning finger at the bodyguard who only responded by pursing her lips together as if challenging the woman.

"Why did Beethoven get rid of his chickens?"

Beca didn't say a word again.

"Because they kept saying… 'Bach-Bach-Bach'," Chloe energetically imitated the sound of a chicken along with some 'chicken wings' movements, and then chuckled at her own joke. But her companion still had a straight face on, and so the redhead threw a dirty look at her. "Come on, you have to laugh at that! I looked and sounded pretty stupid already!"

The brunette turned her eyes towards the sky once again and muttered, "You didn't tell me you are an expert on birds and at sound imitations."

In her peripheral view, she watched Chloe gasped in annoyance then hugged her knees together resting her chin on the right one. With that, the next few minutes were filled with silence. The young heiress quietly looked straight ahead while her bodyguard stared at the full moon.

"What happened to 'I can't stand silent treatment'?" Beca questioned.

Chloe buried her face on to her knees. "I am _not_ talking to you."

"You just did."

It was the redhead's turn to huff at the statement and ignore her companion. Surprisingly, even for someone who finds comfort in solitude, Beca had grown anxious at the sudden turn of events. So, with a little extra push, she let out a sigh and turned to the redhead curled up next to her.

"Do you want to hear a joke about pizza?"

At first, Chloe was unresponsive complying with her initial vow not to talk to that person who wouldn't bother to laugh at her corny jokes for the sake of exercising a little act of kindness. But the silence was frankly provoking her, and so she let her face resurface to the open-air and meet Beca's impassive eyes. She stared at her face for a moment before opening her mouth to respond, but the brunette immediately cut her off.

"Never mind, it's so cheesy."

Just like that, the mood in the atmosphere had clearly changed. It started with a beam on Chloe's face, throwing a playful grin at the bodyguard who had gone back to her I-don't-give-a-shit zone. Afterwards, the redhead couldn't contain the chuckles anymore. Well, it didn't really matter if Beca was about to brush off everything else she would do or say for the rest of the evening as usual. Beca Branson made a joke and it was indeed a big miracle. It used to be an epitome of impossible, but it happened, and it was starting to make Chloe wonder, to consider the possibility of Beca changing – from that of a horrible beast to a normal human being. Maybe Jesse Swanson was wrong after all. Maybe Beca could change. Maybe Chloe could change her.

"Thank you," Chloe sincerely said after her chuckles had finally subsided. Never mind that Beca wasn't looking, she plastered yet another smile on her face as a sign of her gratitude. "Thank you for letting me in, Beca."

But the other shook her head. "You still don't know a lot of things about me."

"That's okay," the redhead assured her. "I feel like I've already known what I need to anyway. Besides… you'll be staying with me all the time, 24/7 in fact, right? We'll have plenty of time to explore the rest of Beca Branson."

So this is what guilt feels like? Chloe was giving Beca Branson that sweet friendly smile, but the truth was, Beca Branson never existed in the first place. Chloe was giving her full trust when Beca had known right from the very start that she would have to betray the ginger at some point. Chloe Beale had given her the freedom to protect her, but Beca Mitchell was purposely made to destroy her.

"And there's one more thing you have to know about my mom." Chloe's voice was just as calm but the strain of unease had gone back as she moved further towards the person sitting next to her, closing that small gap between them. She then reached for Beca's breast pocket where she knew she'd find a pack of cigarettes along with a black lighter. "I lost her when she lost her battle against lung cancer. Cigarette smoking."

Again, Beca only followed with her eyes as Chloe settled the pack of cigarettes and lighter on the sleeping bag next to the iPhone, stripping her down once again. Then, she looked up a little in time to meet those bright blue eyes along with that bittersweet smile on the ginger's face.

"Since your job here is to save me… I really hope you'd _honestly_ quit smoking this time. Quit, and save me from another heartbreak… please?" Then, she shook her head as some tears slipped off from her eyes. "Because I can't get through the same pain of losing someone I care about all over again."

That was it. That's all it took for Beca, both Branson and Mitchell, to get out of character. She took her black leather jacket off, placed it around the shivering Chloe, and wiped those tears with her thumb. Then without warning, she gently pulled the other closer to her body, letting her find comfort in her arm. The redhead didn't even have to ask this time. She just anticipated that she was going to sleep to this cricket's lullaby again. True enough, a few more seconds, and Beca started singing.

* * *

Chloe Beale was busy entertaining the reporters swarmed around her, patiently answering their queries about the success of the fundraising event, the Clarence Beale Golf Cup, held on that same day. Meanwhile, standing by the taxidermied bear, her bodyguard quietly crushed the emptied can of Dr. Pepper in her hand as she looked into the eyes of Tom Jacobs who was seated comfortably on a couch at the other side of the clubhouse. The guy had a mocking sneer fixed on his lips to match the sardonic look he was directing back at the brunette. She could clearly read the message he was trying to send her: _I know you want to punch me, but you won't. _And there's nothing else in this world that could be more irritating than the mere existence of this man.

"Hi there, _friend._"

Okay, the second most irritating was the fact that Aubrey Posen just called her, in emphasis, 'friend'. The third one was definitely the sight of that goofy grin on her face which Beca had no choice but to witness in the corner of her eye.

"_Oh it's that blonde bitch, isn't it?"_

The fourth in the list was Fat Amy's thick Australian accent just because everything else in this fucked up planet was starting to annoy her to no end.

"What's up?" the blonde heiress cheerfully jumped to the side of the bodyguard, ending such unusual friendly gesture by raising both her eyebrows playfully.

"Just tell me the fuck you need," mumbled the shorter woman.

Aubrey shot her a dirty look at first for the use of the offensive language. However, in an instant, she eagerly took a white envelope out of her shoulder bag, pulled Beca's left hand up, and carefully placed the material on top.

"That's the invitation to my father's birthday party. Give it to Stan, okay?"

"_Tell her Stan has already changed his mind."_

Caught up between these two women vying for her older brother's attention, the brunette let out a heavy sigh. Nevertheless, she gave a half-hearted nod of her head in response to Aubrey causing the young heiress to squeal in delight and excitement. It wasn't a good news for the other blonde though.

"_Beca! I thought you're on my side!"_

But Beca was already just as confined in her own cloud of embitterment when she looked straight ahead again. This time, Tom was no longer alone on the couch. He had an arm around his redheaded girlfriend and just planted an obligatory kiss on her lips. She swore she was displaying no amount of emotion on her face as usual, but maybe it was that stationary stare she was directing at the couple that gave her away to the blonde still standing next to her.

"You should really beat him up again, you know," she advocated.

"_Then you'll be in a lot of trouble again. Dumb blonde shit."_

Aubrey made a quick glance at the brunette, but the bodyguard did not offer any form of response to the statement. In fact, she didn't move at all. She didn't blink and it was as if she wasn't even breathing anymore. Beca looked unruffled and serene on her physical state.

"Chloe won't tell me," the blonde woman reported. "I can't convince Paul to speak out either. If I know, she probably greased his hands already. But I know that the douchebag did something awful back in Las Vegas. It wouldn't be _Tom _if he wasn't acting like the worst boyfriend in the world."

_"Okay, I hate this bitch, but I'll have to agree with her on that one. Chloe's boyfriend just sounded like one real douche."_

Still, the brunette rendered no reply.

"You have no idea how much I hate this guy. Actually, I hate him more than I hate your impertinent attitude." Aubrey Posen slightly shook her head and sharpened her eyes as she joined the wordless bodyguard in throwing dagger looks at the man in subject. "He was never a gentleman. He never listens. He doesn't show interest on her, only on her money. He can't keep his hands from other girls and his gaze on his girlfriend's eyes longer than two seconds."

She didn't even realize it, but Beca was already crumpling the empty can of Dr. Pepper in her right hand as if the material was completely made up of paper.

"So just imagine how ecstatic I am when I found out that you punched him right on his sorry face." The blonde heiress put on a mischievous smirk to match the devilish feeling burning her insides. "You better do it again while I'm watching, you know."

"_Don't. I can't let her enjoy the sight of it. I get to watch that too, alright? That would be fucking awesome!"_

The brunette suddenly turned her head to her side and asked her companion, "Why the fuck is she dating him?"

Taken aback by the sudden interest on the part of the bodyguard, Aubrey could only shrug her shoulders, unsure of what exactly to say. This creepy woman did not speak a single word prior to this moment, then out of the blue, she was posting this question which the heiress wasn't prepared to answer immediately.

"_Why are you asking?"_

Fat Amy's sing song voice played through the hidden earpiece on her left ear. The normal Beca would have let out an annoyed huff to express her great vexation. However, it was a different Beca, the one who was never meant to be crafted in the first place, the one who had her pair of despairing eyes set on Aubrey Posen while she waited for the blonde to give out a satisfactory answer to the question.

Aubrey had to debate against her conscience whether or not to disclose that piece of information to this person. Though she didn't trust her at first, Beca Branson seemed to be the only person in the world who could give Tom Jacobs what he truly deserved. Nevertheless, in the end, the Posen heiress let out a defeated sigh.

"I would really love to tell you about _it…_ the formula as to how Tom Jacobs made Chloe Beale fall head over heels in love with him, but it's not my story to tell, Beca. I'm really sorry."

"_So there's a formula… Interesting."_

Disappointed by the refusal, Beca returned to her state of being a blank canvass.

"You don't realize it, but we actually have the same job here." Aubrey then sported a proud smile as if for the first time in her life, she was playing a very significant role, a role that would be much bigger than her socialite persona. "Just like you, my job is to protect Chloe. But unlike you, I failed when it came to Tom. I'm her best friend, Beca. I know when she doesn't feel happy at all… and unfortunately, that's exactly what she feels with him."

Beca watched Tom's hand snaked upon Chloe's legs. She couldn't do anything. She had no right to do anything. She wasn't even supposed to care. She wasn't even supposed to feel anything at all.

"But you know what?" the blonde heiress turned to her with a promising smile on her lips. "I can tell that Chloe is always happy whenever she's with you. I guess you constructed your own formula anyway, huh?"

With that, Fat Amy proceeded with that silly song again (_Beca and Chloe sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G…)_. It was matters like this that these two blonde women surely had to agree with one another.

"Excuse me, Miss Posen?" A member of the press had suddenly approached the young heiress, and so Aubrey immediately flashed her friendliest smile. "May we have an interview with you? It would be very quick, I promise."

"Sure," the blonde nodded her head.

However, before following the reporter to a better location, somewhere a scary taxidermied bear wouldn't appear on the background, the young Posen turned to Beca one more time.

"I heard you quit smoking, by the way. I like how you smell now, Branson."

Aubrey patted Beca's shoulder, then left.

_"Since when did you quit smoking? Why does that bitch know something about you that I don't?"_

Ignoring Fat Amy's frantic reaction, Beca let out a heavy sigh, and then stuffed the totally crushed and crumpled empty can of Dr. Pepper into the taxidermied bear's permanently opened mouth when nobody seemed to be watching. Before long, she began scanning the clubhouse for that particular person she was _secretly_ arranged to meet (thanks to the help of her brand new iPhone). She immediately moved from her post as soon as she spotted that tall young man disguised as a waiter walking out of the kitchen. Just as planned, in a matter of a second during that very brief encounter, she casually handed the white envelope, but to her surprise, the man slid a piece of paper into her hand as well in the process. Nonetheless, she continued to walk on her path as she let her eyes fall on the paper.

It was a note, and it read: _Phil knows. They'll dig the grave. Just in case you want to know, kiddo._

Beca made an instant halt. She silently tore the note, crumpled the broken pieces in her hand, and dumped it into her pocket to be completely disposed of later on. Of course, Phil had to know. She couldn't blame Fat Amy though, for this was beyond her control already. The Australian blonde herself wasn't aware of the existence of that particular conversation – that particular conversation which revealed the importance of that goddamn password. But then again, the communication device was recording everything. The communication device was being too loyal to Phil Mitchell

So what? It wasn't supposed to be a problem for Beca. _Fidelity to The Society, _that's the code after all. More than ever, she had to remind herself that she was on the side of The Secret Society where she obviously belonged. But no matter how much Beca tried to resist the feeling of apprehension, her entire being was already almost consumed by such emotion. Then, in an instant, her mind just went pitch black. There was this sudden need for release. She turned around, and for some kind of phenomenal conspiracy, the first person her eyes had found was no other than Tom Jacobs. Without realizing, she was walking towards his direction. She was walking faster than her usual speed too. A few seconds later, forget that Chloe Beale was right there sharing a conversation about golf with Justin Timberlake himself, Beca Branson started throwing punches at Tom painting bruises on his face for the second time in her life.

* * *

Thank goodness Kimmy Jin was doing a very good job as the Executive Assistant, and was able to control the group of press in attendance during the event. Whatever she bribed them, it was the perfect bargain to keep their mouths shut about what could have been a big scandal to the public eye. In addition, thanks to Aubrey Posen for taking the initiative to be the de facto lawyer of the defense against Luke's another petition for suspension which later on turned into a petition for termination. Therefore, at the end of the day, much to Tom's great disappointment and utter frustration, Beca Branson had secured her job as the bodyguard upon the approval of Clarence Beale himself. However, maybe Tom won this part of the game, Chloe spent the next couple of days giving the brunette another silent treatment which prompted Beca to conclude that she had to do something.

On their way back to the Beale Manor from the production set of an anti-bullying PSA which the young heiress was involved, Beca would throw quick glances at the rear-view mirror to check on her boss. Okay, so Chloe would not even look at her anymore. Instead, she opted to watch the view on the car window. Maybe it was Beca's fault anyway. Fine, it was indeed Beca's fault for beating up Tom again without the most valid justification. Well, in her defense as Aubrey had stated, the guy was a natural douchebag, and that alone should have been the best justification for it. But as they say, _love is blind_ (and all that crap), and so Chloe had to take her boyfriend's side. Tom was really angry and that meant she had to be on the same side of the boxing ring much to her best friend's disappointment.

Seriously, though? Two days? Two days of brushing off? Even for Beca who had undoubtedly mastered that craft, it was completely stupid. One more day of being ignored and she had to kill somebody in order to preserve her decaying sanity. Fortunately, there's a second option. Hence, the black and white Range Rover took a sudden change of direction.

"You're supposed to turn left, not right."

Chloe Beale spoke to her for the first time since that clubhouse incident. However, Beca was back to her silent ways.

"_Aren't you going to tell her?"_

"We're supposed to go back to the manor." The heiress was then directing her eyes on the rear-view mirror. "This is not part of the schedule."

"_You're going to get into trouble again, I'm feeling it."_

"Where are you taking me, Branson? Are you trying to kidnap me? I'm calling Luke now."

"_Just tell her already!"_

Beca kept her eyes on the road as she finally muttered, "If taking you out for a special surprise is called kidnaping in your vocabulary, then sure, I'm trying to kidnap you."

"_And then you're good."_

Dumbfounded, the redhead could only hold on to her phone with a slightly opened mouth while staring at her bodyguard's emotionless face through the rear-view mirror. Beca Branson was about to take her out for a special surprise? Okay, forget about _pretending_ to be angry at this brunette already. It was becoming completely stupid.

* * *

Beca closed the rear door of the Range Rover as soon as she retrieved the large picnic basket and the customary picnic blanket with red-and-white checkered print. Then, she went around to the side of the car where a speechless Chloe was waiting, staring at the uniformed white tombstones before her. It's been over a year since the last time she set foot on this place.

"I don't know which, so lead the way," told Beca.

The young heiress turned her head towards the bodyguard. Beca had her usual blank stare, but somehow, she was more accommodating than her typical self. She could read the reluctance on the redhead's face, and so figured, a little encouragement was needed.

"Here," she pulled a long-stemmed red rose out of the picnic basket and handed it over to her boss. "That's for you. Fat Amy said it means 'I love you'."

"_You're welcome, but there's something wrong with your statement, Beca."_

Chloe quickly shot her bodyguard a surprised look, stunned by the sudden implication of the proclamation made. Realizing the effect of her words, Beca hurriedly shook her head to dismiss the idea.

"I meant that's for you to give to your mom."

And so the young heiress let out a few chuckles as she nodded her head in understanding.

"I don't expect you to mean it in _that _sense in any case. You don't really have to be so _horrified_ about it, Beca."

Chloe threw a wink at her before stepping into the green grass. There's that wink again, and for a moment, Beca had to pick herself up from that quite awkward encounter. She took a very deep breath then followed her boss.

"_We can't have another slip of the tongue."_

Beca let out an annoyed huff at Fat Amy's sense of mockery. As soon as the redhead stopped at the particular marker, the bodyguard started to settle everything down. She set the picnic blanket on the green grass and rest the picnic basket neatly on top of it while from time to time, her eyes would silently watch Chloe.

The redhead delicately placed the red rose on top of the marker just beside the beautiful bouquet already seated there. It's Clarence Beale's daily offering for his wife. She ran her fingers over the inscription of her mother's name: _Louise A. Beale. _Before long, she was letting some tears fall off and Beca had to look away.

"Hi, mom." The brunette heard her boss' small chuckles. "I'm sorry it took me so long to come back. I… I was waiting for some kind of a miracle to happen. Well, it hasn't yet. But you can thank Beca Branson right here for trying to kidnap me today."

Beca looked up to see the redhead grinning at her, but made no further reaction than another blank stare.

"Dad hired her to be my bodyguard," the young heiress carried on, looking back down towards the marker. "And what can I say? She's the best bodyguard in the world."

"_Great, you've met the whole family."_

The brunette ignored Fat Amy's comment and settled down on the picnic blanket. Before long, after a few more moments that ended with an 'I miss you', Chloe had come to join her. The redhead had fixed that sunny look on her face that was making the other extremely uncomfortable.

"Thank you," said the redhead. "Thank you for all of this."

"It was actually Aubrey's idea."

"_Hey! It was my idea too!"_

Tired of all the awkward moments she was never prepared for, Beca let out a heavy sigh and started pulling the picnic basket closer.

"Anyways, I hope you like take-out food. Chili's. I couldn't find the time to cook with your busy sched-"

But even before she could finish the sentence and reach out for the first pack of food inside, Chloe immediately pulled the picnic basket away from the bodyguard. Enthusiastically, she started taking out the dishes, setting them on the space between her and Beca, leaving the other to simply stare at her. The ginger was doing it again. She was stripping her down once again.

"So you cook," Chloe supposed. "What kind of food you like to eat though? Pepperoni pizza? Country-fried steak? Cajun pasta? Spicy Buffalo Wings?"

"_Fuck. I can't take this anymore. I'll be back when you two are done eating. I think you already know what to do anyway."_

Beca waited for the sound of Fat Amy's tormented breaths to fade away signaling the absence of the Australian on the other side of the communication device before offering an answer.

"Anything with beer."

Chloe nodded her head attentively as she made a mental note of it. She then fixed a slice of taco pizza on Beca's plate along with a cheesesteak sandwich.

"I forgot to mention it, but your phoenix tattoo is really awesome."

In line with her not-so-secret-anymore agenda, the next thing to do for the young heiress would have been to at least take her bodyguard's jacket off as a reminder of how she discovered the art underneath them. That explained the perverse stare she had on the garment, but doing so would be really awkward, not to mention weird and creepy. However, since Beca had already decoded the secret plan, she decided to take the initiative to remove her black leather jacket. But just as she was about to raise her hand, she spotted three familiar faces lurking around the area. It was Cynthia Rose along with Blue and Red, all three were wearing a cemetery caretaker uniform, each had a digging tool on their hands.

"Something wrong?" asked Chloe.

"Luke is expecting us in the manor in ten minutes," the bodyguard lied as she held two fingers on the earpiece hanging on her right ear as if someone just communicated to her. The truth was the device wasn't even working anymore. But she had to get Chloe out of there fast. "I'll fix this up. Just wait for me in the car."

Left with no other choice, Chloe had to obey the order. She bid goodbye to her mother then proceeded to the car. With her back on the Range Rover, Beca calmly put away the picnic set and casually glanced at Cynthia Rose. One look and she got the message: _Is that the grave? _Hence, she slightly nodded her head in response. Keeping a hold of the picnic basket in her hand, she threw a quick look at the marker for the first time and probably the last time too. She wondered if Chloe would ever forgive her if the heiress would ever find out that her 'best bodyguard in the world' had helped these people plot what they were about to do to this grave. More so, the fact that Beca was wondering about it meant that Chloe Beale had effectively stripped her down.

* * *

_So yeah, maybe I want the long-stemmed red rose to be my trademark now. Just maybe. And just in case you're curious about the lullaby she sung, it was **Waking Dream** **by Natalie Walker.** Love that song._

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Pitch Perfect.


	10. Intruder

**_kassdunn, Ilumiinous: _**_Thanks so much. :)_

**_PitchPerfectLover, apple-jacs, mrebel1992:_**_ Well, Fidelity to The Society._

**_madness2013:_**_ I had to do it. I'm sorry it took me nine chapters._

**_cxcxcx386:_**_ Most girls I know are really fond of Hello Kitty and the color pink. I wanted to re-establish Chloe's child-like tendencies as well. I'm sorry if you had some pink nightmares. LOL._

**_mrebel1992, TheExperienceofLife:_**_ The rose might not have as much significance as it did back in Poison & Wine, but it's something. It could have been the start if only Beca meant it._

**_teasingyourtears:_**_ I have some few ideas now for an ending. I just hope I don't disappoint you, guys._

**_MysticFalls94: _**_I feel like everybody rejoices or at least has their fists up in the air whenever Tom goes down. LOL.__  
_

**_writting is love:_**_ Can't tell when, but someday, dear._

**_StalkerNinja94:_**_ I truly appreciate the support and love for this fanfic story. :)_

**_To all Filipino readers: _**_I hope we're all well from all the crazy flood and storms that struck us. And please, let's continue the fight we started in Luneta. #AbolishPork_

_On the chapter... if this is a TV show, I guess this could be the most suitable season finale._

* * *

CHAPTER TEN: **Intruder**

Stan Mitchell grinned at his reflection on the mirror as he neatly secured the navy blue bowtie around his neck, and then reached out for the comb sloppily lying on the table to fix his messy hair into place. For the final touch, he picked up the expensive perfume Fat Amy gave him for Valentine's Day and sprayed the fragrance all over his atmosphere. Typically, on regular days, the process of dressing up for him would only include putting on a shirt, a pair of faded blue jeans, and a pair of shoes. With just a little bit of the perfume and after a playful shake of his wet hair, he would have been good to go. However, this particular night was a little extra special. It was the night which Aubrey Posen's dad was throwing a birthday party, so he needed to put on that little extra effort to make sure he was presentable for the occasion.

Not wanting to be late for the party, Stan straightened his suit one last time then retrieved the invitation card from his bed as well as the bouquet of flowers he planned to give to the beautiful blonde heiress. Before long, he was heading out to the door. The night was indeed starting off in a very good light, but right when he pulled the door open, Blue and Red were there to prevent his exit.

"What is this?" he questioned, but received no response. He took a step forward to assert his right of way, but the two bald men further blocked his path. Annoyed, he threw dirty looks at them and firmly ordered, "Get the fuck out of my way."

"You seem too dressed up tonight, Stan."

Stan's fierceness suddenly disappeared upon hearing his father's voice. The sharpness in his eyes instantaneously softened as the two men in front of him parted away revealing the presence of Phil Mitchell himself.

"Where are you off to?" asked the old man.

The young man lowered his head slightly and muttered, "Just some party."

Phil pursed his lips together as if contemplating the idea, but then he slowly shook his head and fixed an eye on his son. "No, I don't think so. Not anymore."

"But-"

"There's something _more _important that I need you to do," was all Phil's statement, but it was enough to keep the younger Mitchell from speaking furthermore. Stan simply nodded his head in submission. "I'll see you at the Green Room for the briefing."

Blue and Red left the young man with an adequate amount of 'We're keeping an eye on you' look before following behind their master back to the Green Room leaving Stan at the door to pull himself together and stare at the bouquet of flowers and the white envelope clenched in his hands.

* * *

The Posen home may not be as gigantic as the Beale Manor, but it was definitely just as grandeur. It had a wide driveway made out of cobblestones with a well-maintained modern garden rock fountain in the middle of that mini roundabout. If that wasn't extravagant enough for a regular person, at the door entrance stood four Corinthian columns as a foundation. Moreover, a number of usherettes elegantly dressed up for the occasion were lined up at the door to welcome the guests and show them the way to the banquet hall where a boring classical music was playing. Beca reminded herself not to stay near the mini orchestra at any point during the night or she'd probably doze off without even meaning to.

"Are we late?" Chloe frantically asked her best friend who met them up by the door. "We had to stop by at 7-Eleven."

Aubrey shook her head, "Just in time, but your father is already here."

Then, the blonde heiress nervously turned her eyes to the shorter woman standing behind her best friend. Beca didn't say a word, and so Aubrey threw her hands in the air and gasped in frustration.

"What?" croaked the brunette.

"Where's Stan?"

"I don't know."

_"I knew it. Stan won't be coming. Now it's 2-1. Booyah!"_

Beca heard Fat Amy's victorious laugh, and she could just picture the Australian chick with a clenched fist then thrusting her elbows downward to match the exclamatory statement. She figured that announcing the score out loud would probably be a bad idea.

"Did you give the invitation?" the blonde glared at the bodyguard.

"Yes."

"Personally?"

"Yes."

"Then where is he?"

Chloe immediately walked towards her best friend, linking their hands together, and then dragging her further into the banquet hall before the Posen heiress would explode. Beca Branson had no other choice but to follow, letting out an annoyed huff in the process.

"Beca said Stan has his own car. He'll be here before you know it, don't worry."

The redhead flashed her usual sweet smile as a sign of reassurance in order to calm Aubrey down while they try to find their assigned table. On the other hand, her bodyguard unfortunately had to drag herself to where the rest of the Beale security group were posted for the evening wherein Luke immediately met her with that scrutinizing look at her usual full black attire - the usual black leather jacket, black jeans, and black boots.

"It's a _formal _party, Branson."

She nodded her head uncaringly, "Yeah, and _fuck_ you."

_"Way to get on his bad side, huh?"_

Beca looked to the side, ignoring the dagger looks from the blonde man, and noticed that Paul was being quietly nice to her again, and so she decided to stay close to him for the meantime. She stood next to him and took quite a deep breath. She just knew it; this was going to be a very long night.

* * *

Jesse carefully placed the folder of papers on top of the desk and nervously stood back to wait for further instructions from the group head. He turned his head to the side and found Stacie standing quietly next to him waiting for further instructions as well. Confused at first, but eventually shrugged off the idea of her getting involved in the special mission. It just wouldn't be possible; she's on a different team.

"What do I need to know about this, Swanson?" Phil grabbed the folder and started scanning the small pile of papers inside.

"T-The latest mission is a negative, sir," Jesse nervously answered, struggling to minimize the frequency of his stammers. "The group found n-no treasure in the grave. There's also no sign of a clue or a lead found in the area."

The old man sighed at the pointless news then held up some papers. "And what are these?"

"Those are t-transcripts of the additional recorded conversations out of Beca's communication device, sir. I-I already omitted Fat Amy's unnecessary comments. As usual, most conversations are with C-Chloe Beale."

"Chloe Beale," Phil repeated the name with great interest. "She's the one and only daughter, right?"

Jesse eagerly nodded his head in affirmation, recognizing the fact that there was finally something interesting about his report.

"She supplied us with the password as well as its significance. She's very careful with giving out details about her father as well as the corporation though, especially when it comes to the kidnapping incident. However, she's very vocal about her conviction that there are people who are after them; hence, the establishment of the tight security."

Phil suddenly directed his eyes towards the other person present in the room, and Stacie automatically straightened herself up.

"Stacie," called the group leader. "It has come to my attention that you want to be reassigned to Beca's team, is that right?"

The curly-haired brunette nodded her head, "Yes, sir."

Jesse dropped his mouth open at the news. Was she _that_ desperate to be with Beca?

"Then I have a first mission for you," Phil picked up the picture of a young redheaded woman attached with the files submitted by Jesse and gently pushed it further on the desk for the brunette to see. "Keep an eye on Beale's daughter. I want you to study everything about her especially her schedule. When she leaves the manor, don't let her get away from your sight."

"B-But isn't that Beca's job already?" protested Jesse.

"Beca's job is to keep an eye on the treasure," the oldest Mitchell glanced at him. "_Not_ on the girl."

"Does t-the rest of the team k-know about this, sir?"

Irritated by all the questions pouring out from his subject, Phil leaned forward on his desk and fixed a blank stare at the young man.

"Tell me, do they have to know, Jesse?"

Okay, was it a question he needed to answer? Man, this man's definitely Beca Mitchell's father.

"Starting tonight," Phil pulled a cigarette stick and leaned back to his chair. "Stacie will be on your team."

And that meant Jesse simply had to nod his head in agreement to cover up that anxious sigh which escaped from his lips. He watched Stacie picked up the picture from the desk and memorize the face before crumpling it into a ball then dumped it into the nearby trash bin. It seemed like the mission was just about to become more complicated than it already was.

* * *

Regrettably, Beca had to stay in the banquet hall through all the boring speeches, presentation of ridiculously expensive birthday gifts, the annoying murmurs of _intelligent elite_ conversations, not to mention watching all these people dance their asses off on the dance floor along to some jazz music courtesy of the mini orchestra. The undercover assassin had never felt this riled in her entire life. Moreover, she struggled to fight the urge of rolling her eyes when everybody in attendance including Chloe Beale swooned at the presence of the one and only Michael Bublé. He was singing a song called _L.O.V.E. _according to Fat Amy who was then singing along much to the brunette's dismay, and then this blonde guy who must be the son of some rich executive director asked her lady boss to dance with him. Fortunately, Paul went to the rest room or she could have broken his arms once again.

Noticeably though, Aubrey Posen was sulking in her seat, politely declining every man who would ask her to dance with them. She simply watched her parents and everybody else in the party have a great time on the dance floor. Good, so Beca wasn't the only uninvited one to the cloud 9 zone.

_"You know that love was made for me and you."_

Fat Amy sang along the last line to the song incorporating her own element of jazz into it. _Australian version_, her partner in crime rationalized. Thankfully, Chloe politely declined to dance to another song and hurriedly went back to her seat to attend to her best friend's needs. When Aubrey still wouldn't wear a smile on her lips, the redhead surprisingly walked to where her bodyguard was.

"Where's Stan?" she asked.

Beca replied, "I really don't know."

_"I told you he's not coming already."_

The brunette ignored Fat Amy's creepy evil laugh.

"Can you not call him?"

"My brother doesn't have a phone."

The young heiress sighed at the confession. What was it with this family that they wouldn't own a cellphone at this day and age?

"Well, they're about to play the song, and if Aubrey doesn't agree to dance to it with somebody who's present in this party, then she's going to be really heartbroken."

_"What song?"_

As if on cue, the mini orchestra started playing something different from those kinds of music that they've been playing all throughout the evening. Beca didn't recognize it, but Fat Amy did.

_"Oh, so the little blonde bitch wanted to dance with my Stan to this song. Well, that's never going to happen now, and so I'm going to sing it loud and clear for everyone to hear my cry of victory."_

And she did. But unfortunately, it was only Beca who got to hear it (and whoever was poorly listening back at Pandemonium). That was it, the urge to roll her eyes was too hard to resist anymore.

"_We watch the season pull up its own stakes  
__And catch the last weekend of the last week  
__Before the gold and the glimmer have been replaced,  
__Another sun soaked season fades away."_

Surprisingly, Chloe stayed with Beca at the side where she could hide from the men who would come and ask her to dance with them yet still be able to keep an eye on her sulking best friend. This little action prompted the rest of the security group to move away though because apparently you don't seem to hang out with your boss' daughter. Well, without the redhead's knowledge, Fat Amy was singing the lyrics to the song on her bodyguard's hidden earpiece, and it was involuntarily causing the brunette great discomfort. It felt beyond awkward to listen to the song when there was just her and Chloe standing at the corner side-by-side like an imperfectly perfect pair of wallflowers.

"_Invitation only grant farewells  
__Crash the best one of the best ones  
__Clear liquor and cloudy-eyed, too early to say goodnight."_

Thankfully, Richard Posen was sweet enough to ask his daughter to dance with him to the song, joining the other lovely pairs in the dance floor. At least, even with the absence of Stan, Aubrey still got to dance with a special man. Then, it was as if Beca felt the pull of gravity from Chloe's smile that the brunette turned her eyes towards the redhead in the desire to witness it, but for some bizarre coincidence, it happened right when Fat Amy burst out for the chorus. Two shades of blue had met for another unforeseen warm and intimate moment. Chloe's smile disappeared as she was lost in those dark blue orbs once again. This time, the feeling of being drawn to Beca was too much to ignore already, and there was this sudden urge to kiss her right then and there. But then, Clarence Beale approached his daughter for a dance, and that unplanned moment eventually had to end.

"_And from the ballroom floor we are in celebration  
__One good stretch before our hibernation  
__Our dreams assured and we all will sleep well. Sleep well."_

By the time, Clarence and Chloe were waltzing on the dance floor, Paul was back to Beca's side and the man couldn't help but give her a nudge on the arm along with that stupid knowing look. So it wasn't just her own imagination then, this man saw it too. He saw that evident spark which radiated from that brief eye-to-eye connection, that incredibly head-in-the-clouds feeling which Beca chose to brush off and bury deep into her despicable world.

"_I watch you spin around in your highest heels  
__You are the best one of the best ones  
__We all look like we feel."_

But as the brunette watched the father and daughter from afar, she caught Chloe's nervous gaze once more and she felt like a phoenix rejuvenating from the ashes after a very long period of time. The walking dead alarmingly felt alive. And it was rather too strange that it scared her to death. It wasn't just Branson anymore, Beca Mitchell was never this scared in her whole life, and it was all because of the thought of her falling in love with Chloe Beale… and Chloe Beale falling in love with her.

"_You have stolen my  
__You have stolen my  
__You have stolen my  
__You have stolen my heart."_

As soon as the song ended and everybody erupted in applause, Beca had to drag herself out of the banquet hall. She had to drag herself out fast; otherwise, if Chloe came walking straight to her from her father's arms, instinct would push the brunette to kiss her ultimately. And she knew she shouldn't. She knew she shouldn't be feeling that way in the first place. She shouldn't admit that the redheaded monster had already stolen her heart. But, inevitably, that was exactly what already happened.

* * *

While the time passed by and the party went on and on, Beca found comfort sitting at the exterior grand staircase to the backyard garden all by herself. This would have been a good time for her cigarette break but since she had already abandoned that habit, playing _Minion Rush_ on her iPhone was the perfect replacement. It was an enough distraction away from that strange feeling she deliberately left back at the banquet hall.

"Fuck you, ugly yellow onion!"

She angrily stared at her score displayed on the phone screen: _19,253._ The impulse to throw the phone away was starting to become an option, but the sentimental value it held was making it more difficult for her to choose such decision.

"_First of all, it's 'minion' not 'onion'. Second, they're not ugly, Beca. They're the cutest and most adorable thing ever invented in Hollywood."_

"Whatever."

"_What was your score?"_

"A hundred thousand," she lied.

"_Oh, would you look at that? I just beat my own high score. Now it's 350k."_

Beca let out an irritated huff and deliberately closed the application. She was so sure that Fat Amy was cheating; there was no other way to explain the freaking high scores she kept on getting while the brunette was stuck at the 20,000 mark. Never mind, she was better at _2Fuse_ anyway.

"Oh there you are."

The brunette immediately turned around and saw Chloe Beale standing at the gigantic door. Before long, the young heiress, in her high heels, cautiously descended the staircase towards the bodyguard.

"Do you mind?" she asked which the other responded with a shake of her head, and so the redhead took a seat next to her bodyguard on the bottom steps. "So, creepy cricket, what are you doing here?"

As a response, Beca kept her mouth shut and put the phone back to her pocket.

_"Does it mean our little competition is over now? But you haven't beaten my score yet!"_

"Not enjoying the party?" Chloe went on with her endless attempt at striking a conversation again. "The food wasn't good? You don't like the music? Too many people around? Too much formalities? Aubrey just won't stop throwing daggers at you? You hate everything about this fucked up planet? Tell me, what is it?"

Beca made sure not to turn to look and meet those bright blue eyes once again or it was just going to be a disaster. But really, it was funny how Chloe was trying to search for that single reason that made the brunette so uncomfortable that she decided to isolate herself from the rest of the world when in fact the only reason, honestly, why she came to hide in this poorly-lit garden was this redheaded monster herself. Beca needed to run away from Chloe. Beca needed to return to that sad, sad zoo and wear back that metal heart which took her years to build.

"So you're just going to give me that silent treatment all over again," the redhead supposed.

_"Just talk to her, Beca. Come on."_

But the brunette still wouldn't say a thing, so her company took a deep breath and looked up to the night sky above, trying to do the impossible – count all the stars with her mind.

"Don't you ever get tired of that… _bulletproof_ character?" questioned Chloe. "I mean, yeah, it's so cool to be some sort of a superhuman… someone who could be indestructible. You get to be the _mightiest_ one, and nobody would ever dare to come and hurt you because it just wouldn't be possible to do so. But then, it could be really sad… because then everybody is so scared of you, so scared that they don't even want to stay."

_"I'm scared of you, but I do stay."_

"Just how do you do this? How could you live like this, Beca? How do you survive being so alone and so lonely and so guarded? How could you not care about anything or anyone? How could you be such a ruthless and callous warrior? I mean, you said it yourself, you're still a human being, right?"

Beca slightly opened her mouth and mumbled, "I told you, I'm a horrible monster."

"Why?"

"Because I was made this way."

"By who?"

"The system."

"What system?"

_"Stop!"_

And Beca did. She needed to stop talking. Fortunately, Fat Amy was able to sense it. A few more questions and the brunette could be starting to talk about The Secret Society already. Not that her partner had doubts on her skills, Beca was the best in the field, but just to make sure, they needed to protect the secrecy of the organization.

Receiving no answer from the bodyguard, Chloe took a quick glance at her then let out a heavy sigh.

"I heard about… Stacie," she said, and out of surprise, Beca turned her head towards the redhead in an instant. "And it sounds to me like she really loves you, Beca."

_"Hey, I swear it wasn't me."_

Chloe turned her gaze to the totally stunned woman next to her. "Finally, there's somebody who cares enough to stay."

_"It has to be Stan or Jesse."_

Starting to get really infuriated, Beca rolled her eyes and entered her I-don't-give-a-shit zone once more.

"So why won't you let her in? Why won't you make her stay? Why do you keep on inviting her in but then end up pushing her away?"

"Because I don't let anybody in."

"You _did _let me in," Chloe pointed out, and so the other had to shut her mouth. She had lost that round.

_"Wait, when did you let her in?"_

Beca then sighed and glared at the redhead, "So what the fuck do you want to point out here?"

"I-I don't know," the young heiress shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe I want to point out that… you're much bigger and better than this bulletproof character, Beca. The fact that you've let me in means there's more to you than meets the eye. I've seen your different sides, and I must say that… you're not a horrible monster after all. I'm sorry, Beca, but you don't seem to scare me anymore."

The bodyguard did not respond again.

"And I know what it feels like to be a Stacie. I know what it feels like to practically throw yourself at somebody who wouldn't bother to catch you. I know what it feels like to give your heart to someone who keeps on insensitively breaking it into pieces. That would be like trying to count all the stars in the sky, or trying to drink all the water in the ocean. It's so fucking hopeless and it fucking hurts so much. So _please_… stop being such a Tom to her."

No, Beca would never want to be anything like Thomas Jacobs. But Chloe was right. Sadly, she was clearly being a Tom to Stacie.

"Tom was the miracle I was waiting to happen." Suddenly, the redhead had that bittersweet smile on her face once again, that bittersweet smile that seemed to just requires Beca get out of character every time. "He was the first and only person who promised to go on a date with me in a graveyard. Who would ever want to have a date in a graveyard on a Valentine's Day, huh?"

_"Oh, so that's the formula."_

Chloe was chuckling, but her company knew her heart was slowly tearing apart.

"But I wanted to share what could have been the most incredible moment in my life with my mom. One year after though, Tom still hasn't fulfilled his promise. I'm still waiting for that goddamn miracle to happen… until one day, there you were trying to kidnap me." The redhead directed that silly smile towards the quiet cricket surprisingly still sitting next to her. "Apparently, _you_ happened, Beca... so I guess you're not so much of a Tom after all."

_"That's, like, one of the greatest compliments in the world right now."_

But Beca muttered, "It wasn't a date."

And Chloe had to laugh at that along with an understanding nod of her head. Of course, it wasn't a date. Beca, both Branson and Mitchell, would never go out on a date. So for the sake of technicalities, let's just call it, in her own words, a 'special surprise'.

"But because I'm 'not so much of a Tom' I would like to tell you that…" the brunette, without warning, slowly leaned closer to the redhead until her lips were almost touching Chloe's ear. And with her voice gradually turning into a very soft whisper, she murmured in such a way that only Chloe could understand her words, "You look beautiful tonight. You look beautiful tonight and every single day."

Dumbfounded, Chloe froze into place. Those words, those words which her boyfriend never told her. It had been more than a year and she was still waiting for Tom to make some sort of a miracle happen, but then, Beca Branson accomplished two in a matter of two days. So yeah, she's definitely not so much of a Tom after all.

"_She looks what? Say it again, Beca. Louder."_

Fat Amy pleaded, but Beca was already standing up, putting two fingers on the secretly broken earpiece visibly hanging on her right ear.

"We should head back to the party. Luke's already looking for you."

The young heiress nodded her head, but remained seated on the steps as she watched her bodyguard slowly ascend the staircase. What was this person doing to her? Why was she standing up, quietly following her up the stairs with this little desire to embrace her tight, or perhaps, kiss her on the lips? Well, should she? But even before Chloe could make up her mind, she felt a hand forcefully grabbed her on the mouth and a gun pointed right to her head. She tried to scream, but all she could make out were muffled cries.

Suddenly, Beca stopped at her tracks, instinctively feeling that something bad was happening behind her. She turned around, and there she was - the redheaded monster was being held hostage by this masked-person in a full-black attire.

"Let her go," the bodyguard calmly demanded, but instead, the captor only pointed the gun at the brunette.

"_What's happening?"_

Annoyed by the only response she was able to obtain, Beca sighed and slowly descended the stairs, getting closer and closer to the pair with every step prompting the unexpected intruder to drag Chloe down to the landscaped-garden away from the other.

"If you're going to point a gun at the enemy," she suddenly made a halt and so did the masked-intruder, "make sure you're always ready to pull the trigger."

With that, she kicked the hand holding the gun away and the captor reflexively had to let go of the hostage. Chloe immediately ran to the side allowing her bodyguard to throw a hard punch right onto the intruder's completely covered face.

"_I'm sending a warning to Luke's earpiece."_

Just when the uninvited guest regained composure, a knife was taken out and was hurriedly shoved towards the brunette, but Beca was able to deflect it. She grabbed the extended arm and mercilessly twisted it around and shoved the enemy down on one knee; its bones made some few cracking sounds. But it just wouldn't give up yet. The intruder leaned further down and, using its strong back, lifted Beca off her feet to somersault in the air then fall back down on her chest. Angered, she gritted her teeth and pushed herself up followed by a quick reverse roundhouse kick right on the enemy's jaw. It picked up the knife lying quietly on the grass, prepared to harm the brunette at any point. But Beca was too damn wrathful already that she could only walk straight towards the enemy with her bare self. The knife was launched towards her chest and she simply deflected the attack with the back of her arm, then threw several hard punches towards the fully-covered face until it was only spitting out blood, until the beaten body needed to collapse on the ground.

No, Beca wasn't done yet. She had to kill whoever this intruder was before anybody could stop her. Luke and the others were already at the door, but this was for her knife to kill. So she grabbed the enemy by the shoulder and pulled it up for more of her cruel attacks. However, just as when she had the enemy struggling to stay up on its feet, Beca stopped. She froze into place as the intruder weakly held on to her, wordlessly begging for her mercy. She could hear the unsteady breaths and the muffled cries of pain, and suddenly she couldn't do it anymore.

"No!" she heard Chloe's loud shriek and she knew that one of Luke's men was about to shoot this intruder to death.

Beca suddenly fall back down on the grass as if the intruder had powerfully pushed her. The other quickly got the message and so took this as an opportunity to snappily drag itself away; hence, the bullet missing its target by a split second. A few more gunshots were fired, but the intruder had already disappeared into the dark. Paul and the others tried to chase it down, but Beca knew it would manage to escape anyway, so she simply let out a sigh and stood back up to her feet.

"_Beca, are you okay?"_

"What the fuck was that, Branson?" Luke screamed at her face as soon as he reached the female bodyguard, but the brunette offered no other response rather than her usual blank stare. "Why did you let it get away? You could have killed it already."

Out of frustration, the blonde head of security violently provokingly pushed her by the shoulders, and so, angered, Beca instantly pulled out her knife and drew a perfect long diagonal cut on his cheek. Luke could only jerk at the sudden attack and reflexively put a hand on his bleeding wound, his mouth left wide open in shock.

"I just fucking tried," was all she told him before completely walking away.

"_It's alright, Beca. I know you could have."_

Beca made a quick glance at Chloe to make sure if she was okay, and relieved that the redhead was already being attended by the comforting hands of her father. She then lowered her head down as she approached the staircase. Well, she really did try. She could have killed it, quite honestly. She was so close to pulling out her pocket knife and then plunging it into the intruder's chest. Maybe it wasn't intentional though, but she smelled its scent. She recognized that familiar scent, and so she immediately had to restrain herself. She would kill any intruder. She would kill anybody, really, without any amount of hesitation, but not her brother. No, not Stan... even when he purposely tried to kill her.

* * *

Luke and the rest of his men walked out of the home office leaving their boss to do his late night work at one thirty in the morning. Clarence Beale took a sip of his hot black coffee then sighed at the sight of the pile of files scattered all over his desk.

"Sir?"

From out of nowhere, Beca Branson appeared in front of him startling the man. Clarence alarmingly raised his eyes from the brunette towards the CCTV cameras in the room, and found that some foreign wiring was connected to each of them making him properly conclude that the rest of his security group wasn't aware of the actual presence of this intruder inside the office with him.

"I need you to tell me something," she demanded immediately. She wasn't going to beat around the bush. She didn't have the luxury of time. Sooner or later, Fat Amy would get suspicious enough to figure out that Beca was no longer at the other end of the line. "I need you to tell me where the treasure is."

Taken aback by her words, the redhead momentarily heaved out a breath then leaned back to his chair.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied.

But Beca marched forward until her thighs were just an inch away from the edge of the desk. This was taking too much time than she wanted it to be. She thus needed to assert some kind of a threat already.

"You know there are dangerous people who are trying to get to you," she leaned forward and spoke every word with such conviction and importance. "But this time, they're trying to get to Chloe too. Your daughter's life is in danger, sir."

Clarence casually nodded his head, "That's why I hired you… to protect her."

The brunette stood back and sighed in frustration. Why was this man still playing hard to get? His one and only daughter was obviously in danger!

"Didn't you see it back at the party? There's a very huge chance that I'm going to fail my job. But these people, they will do everything they can to get what they want. They will stop at nothing until they get it."

Again, the redhead nodded his head. "I know. They won't even leave my dead wife alone."

"So tell me where the treasure is. That's all they want, sir."

"How do you know what they want, Branson?"

And Beca paused. She stared at the curious look upon the face of Clarence Beale. Sneaking into his office alone was more than enough to raise great suspicion, what more can blurting out all these information would contribute to that? But she wanted to get this over with. She wanted the special mission to terminate already. Well, should she give him an answer? Telling him the truth would blow off her cover, and it won't be good for everyone.

"I've been studying your kidnapping case and it has to be the most rational explanation for it," she lied and hoped that Clarence Beale would buy it, and fortunately, he did. "Now tell me where the stolen treasure is, sir. You have to return it to where it belongs. Tell me where it is, and then you and Chloe will be safe."

Clarence let out a sigh then rested his arms on the desk and fixed an apologetic expression towards the bodyguard.

"I hate to break it to you, Beca, but there's no such thing as a stolen treasure."

_Another diversion_, Beca thought. And it was as if the business tycoon had read her mind, he continued with his confession to reaffirm his statement.

"I would do anything to keep my daughter safe, but unfortunately, there's no such thing as a stolen treasure."

That was it. Beca's walls came tumbling down. No treasure? All of these series of missions for nothing? It couldn't be. It just couldn't be.

"I guess you should do more research on the case," he proposed. "For the meantime, I want you to reconnect the cameras back to where they should be before Luke and the others find out about this sudden unauthorized visit. The two of us can pretend that this conversation never happened."

"Why won't you just fire me, sir?" she questioned. "Luke is right. I'm a liability to this security group. I even went to the extent of sneaking into your office and falsely accusing you of stealing a non-existing treasure."

Clarence chuckled at the question. "Well, I thought we have an agreement, Branson? Protect Chloe until all of this is over and I shall reward you with anything you want."

When Beca did not post any more question for him to answer, he pulled a desk drawer open then pushed a secret button. Immediately, one of the book shelves on the side unlocked to reveal a secret passageway.

"When you're done fixing the cameras, I suggest you go back to your post. That will lead you back to the hallway of Chloe's bedroom. Stop worrying about a non-existing treasure. All I need you to worry about is my daughter."

Clarence Beale flashed one last smile then proceeded back to his late night work commencing with another sip of his coffee. Beca, on the other hand, was left still in utter disbelief. What should she do then? There was no treasure to be found. There was no longer any other reason for the special mission to carry on.

* * *

_Songs used: (1) L.O.V.E. - Michael Bublé (2) Stolen (Dashboard Confessional cover) - String Tribute *Where did you think I got this fanfic idea from?_

_Okay, I know I messed up with the fight scene, but I told you before that I'm only an amateur with this stuff. And oh, I can totally picture Aubrey's parents being portrayed by Ed Harris and Vera Farmiga. What do you think?_

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Pitch Perfect.


	11. Confidant

**_misscurious: _**_Better tune in, my dear. You don't want me to spoil it to you like this, do you?_

**_Guest, PitchPerfectLover:_**_ Honestly, that was the entire point of including the part where she asks for reassignment - to make you, guys, think it was Stacie. Somehow. _

**_avidreader:_**_ Nice to see you again, avidreader! Thank you for the positive review. It's going to be more challenging to write this story now more than ever because I really have to decide which path to take now. Wish me luck!_

**_PIERRE ELLIOT T:_**_ Your review's truly flattering. Thank you. I guess I just love writing AU stories. BeChloe is really a nice pair and I think they deserve a better story than a too-alternative-DJ-meets-a-perky-redhead kind. I'm just glad that I'm still doing this right._

**_teasingyourtears:_**_ Thanks! :) You'll have to tune in to get your answer though._

**_cxcxcx386:_**_ Well, it's all about following the code of The Secret Society. And thanks God I didn't ruin the fight scenes. They're a lot easier to demonstrate than describe._

**_RobOverstreet:_**_ But I'm telling you, it's really difficult to write a next chapter for it. LOL._

**_madness2013:_**_ Have fun playing! :)_

**_BeChloeFan01:_**_ I've been dying to use the song since the very beginning of this series, but I had to wait for the perfect timing for it._

**_mrebel1992: _**_I won't, don't worry. I'll try my best to update as soon as I can because as a reader, I really hate waiting too. _

_**mrebel1992, lauwer: **SPOILER (?): I can't promise more whispering, but I can tell that Fat Amy won't be at the other end of the line all the time from now on._

**_MysticFalls94:_**_ I'm keeping my mouth shut because I just can't spoil everything. LOL._

**_Ilumiinous: _**_Are you a Filipino too? :)_

_Sorry for the late update. I just didn't know what to write on this chapter._

* * *

CHAPTER ELEVEN: **Confidant**

Beca carefully took off her black leather jacket leaving the hidden tiny microphone piece attached to it then neatly placed the garment behind that huge flower pot at the hotel hallway. While her Australian partner at the other end of the line didn't seem to notice this eventual unauthorized absence, she casually marched towards the male restroom right at the corner. Just as she opened the door, this old pudgy man on his coat and tie and whose hairline was miserably depleting met her blank face with one long-lasting odd stare. Nonetheless, the brunette cleared the way for him as if there was nothing strange about a woman entering the men's room before walking in completely. The others inside turned to her questioningly, but there was something about the way she looked back at them that coerced them to get out of there immediately. As soon as the last man hurriedly closed the door behind him, Beca started slamming every cubicle door open to search for her guest of honor who wouldn't volunteer to show himself.

"Stan!"

One cubicle down. No sign of him.

"I know you're in here."

Two. Still, no sign of Stan Mitchell.

"Show your fucking face to me this time!"

Three. It was another empty one. With just one more cubicle left, Beca stood impatiently at the door.

"If you're fucking brave enough to try and kill me," she hissed at the closed door, "you should be fucking brave enough to show me your goddamn face. I want to see how you look when you finally able to plunge a knife into my chest or shoot a bullet right into my head."

Still, Stan did not reveal himself and so the brunette let out a sigh.

"And if you did, I hope you won't regret it because apology doesn't bring back the dead, Stan. I _should_ know… you know that."

Suddenly, as if her words were the sacred password for it, the cubicle door was slowly pulled open revealing Stan Mitchell standing steadily on his feet, his right arm hanging on a sling, his cheeks bruised, and his lips broken and swelled up. Really, it was amazing how he could still look gorgeous even with that beaten up image across his face. Maybe it was the effect of the beautiful bouquet of flowers in his right hand.

"You look awful," Beca casually remarked at her brother's appearance.

Stan shook his head apologetically then walked towards the sink where he carefully set the bouquet for the meantime. He looked at his reflection on the mirror but he was only reminded about guilt so he turned away, his eyes landing on his sister's livid eyes.

"I don't have plenty of time," the brunette admitted. "If you have something to tell me, just spit the shit out now."

"It was a mission. Phil sent me."

"Then you flunked it."

Stan turned around to finally face his sister directly. This time, there was no mask to hide his identity and no mirror to implicate an illusion of reality.

"Believe it or not, I wasn't there to kill you. You're my sister. I would never do that to you, kiddo."

"I killed our mother," Beca pointed out, sheepishly shrugging her shoulders.

And her brother could only purse his lips together in defeat. Perhaps, blood relations was never really an exemption from the code. That was always the idea anyway. So for a moment, The older Mitchell lowered his gaze down on the floor then shook his head frustratingly at what his sister just spit into his face.

"That was completely different."

"No, they're exactly the same. The Secret Society gave us missions to accomplish. I did mine, you failed yours."

"I told you I will always be on your side of the game, didn't I?"

"I'm not blind, Stan. You were so sure to stab me with that knife."

"And I knew you would be able to defend yourself," argued Stan, and his sister kept her mouth shut. Her brother knew her skills, so the argument could be just as the truth as it could be a lie. "The rest of Beale's security group has launched an extensive research about you. His head of security has been very suspicious of you, and so Phil sent me. He thinks we have to make them foolishly believe that you are not the danger to the Beales, that you are not an enemy, and that you are indeed on their side. Well… if you ask me… we don't need to do that anymore, do we? There is no longer need for you to pretend as such, right, kiddo?"

"I have no time for this shit," she stated firmly generous to show her irritation. Before her brother could come up with another indirect accusation, she decided to reveal, "There is no treasure, Stan."

The older Mitchell tilted his head to the side and furrowed his eyebrows in a mixture of shock and confusion.

"Clarence Beale himself testifies to it. There is no treasure. Tell that to Phil."

Not bothering to wait for further response from her stunned brother, Beca turned her body and started heading towards the door signifying her intent to end this accidental confrontation, not to mention that it was foremost an unauthorized one.

"If there's no treasure for you to find, then why are you still going back to the Beales?" Stan questioned. Although he already had this silly idea of what could have been the answer to his query, he needed to ask his sister. He needed to hear it from her. He needed to hear it directly from Beca for firm affirmation once and for all.

The brunette turned around abruptly to face the tall young man once more. She had her usual blank stare on which normally implied and asserted her bulletproof character and her horrible monster image, but unfortunately, in that particular moment, that same blank stare betrayed her. Stan was not feeling threatened at all. Instead, he sported his trademark boyish grin across his broken lips.

"I guess there's a reason why you call Stacie your 'fuck buddy', huh?"

Not that topic again.

"You know it's love when you look at the person and you don't think about sex." Stan flashed a shrewd smile at his younger sister. "You know it's love when suddenly you are ready to give up everything you have ever believed in. You know it's love when the daunting beast has been finally tamed."

Beca took a deep breath but then no words of excuse or pretense or denial escaped from her mouth. The daunting beast simply stood in place and remained in her own perfect state of being a very quiet cricket. But inside was actually a trembling child. Well, it seemed like the list of things that scared her was getting longer and longer than it should be. Funny how they all rooted out from Chloe – the idea of Beca falling for her and the redheaded monster falling for her too; and then here came Stan's words lecturing her about love. It wasn't like she didn't have the idea about it. Believe it or not, Beca Mitchell knew what it was like to love somebody. She loved her mother. But then she killed her. What if history would have to repeat itself? She would fall in love with Chloe Beale, but then she would have to kill her because after all, the code was Fidelity to The Society.

"I'll stay in my post until The Society officially terminates the mission and orders me to get out of here," was all she replied.

A little disappointed by the response, Stan half-heartedly nodded his head. He then reached for the beautiful bouquet of flowers on the sink.

"Maybe you could do me a favor then," he supposed. "Please give this to Aubrey. And tell her I'm sorry I didn't get to tell her personally how gorgeous she was last night."

Beca willingly accepted the gift for the blonde heiress signifying that the cracked brother-sister bond had indeed been mended. She stared at the flowers and consequently admired how Stan was courageously showing some affection. Between the two of them, Beca was just the scary one, but Stan was certainly the braver one. While she spent her life obeying the code, her brother was always ready to defy it. Before long, looking at the flowers reminded her that the two blondes vying for her brother's attention had tied the score once again. If she wasn't being the natural monster that she was, she would have chuckled about it.

"And Beca?" Stan spoke one more time, and so the brunette turned her gaze towards him. "Right now I really don't know what's going on in that hazy head of yours. We may or may not be on the same side of the game at the moment. But I am definitely not your enemy… _Never_. Because I'll always be your brother. I need you to believe that. I want you to remember that."

Beca let out a small huff and eventually nodded her head in agreement. So maybe her brother was right, she was having a significant identity crisis at the moment. It was a dichotomy of remaining a true Phoenix and the role of being the best bodyguard in the world. Nevertheless, there would always be a last choice – the most permanent option of them all – to be Stan Mitchell's younger sister. For the meantime, it was undoubtedly the easiest decision to make.

* * *

"Wow. Just wow." Aubrey shook her head and slowly clapped her hands with the right amount of sarcasm as she fixed her eyes on the brunette bodyguard. "The sun is burning up in the sky; everybody is exposing a lot of skin; and you, Beca Branson, are still wearing that silly black leather jacket and that pair of black boots on the surface of Miami beach. Wow. Way to set a trend here, huh? Seriously, I am truly amazed by your incredibly tasteless guts and your very weird lifestyle preferences."

Beca rolled her eyes at the comment and stood by the other beach chair compulsorily determined not to wipe off the beads of sweat formed on her forehead with the back of her hand because she was _that_ tough.

_"Don't say I didn't tell you so."_

Fat Amy was stiffing a laugh while trying to erase that mental picture of her partner in crime looking like some kind of a vampire out-of-place in the middle of a sunny beach in Florida. Thankfully, the blonde heiress had the beach umbrella up to shield them from the sunlight and Beca from the rest of the scrutinizing and bantering eyes of the public.

"Well, if it's not going to hurt your too alternative I'm-such-a-badass image so much which you're apparently trying to protect every second of your life by remaining consistent to your signature wardrobe, feel free to occupy that chair supposedly reserved for my missing best friend and join me at enjoying this Tom-free moment."

_"For fuck's sake, Beca, just take the offer and please sit down for once."_

So the brunette let out a defeated sigh and reluctantly sat on the vacant beach chair. The sneering Aubrey Posen consequently pushed the other glass of iced cold juice on the small table towards her companion.

"Have a drink," she offered before putting her pair of shades back on and leaned back to her chair for a period of relaxation. "Where the hell is your boss anyway, huh? I thought you're supposed to be dog-trailing her 24/7?"

"She's with the douchebag," the bodyguard muttered in response. "Said the knight-in-a-phony-shining-armor will be able to protect her, so… my services are not needed at the moment. They sent me to you instead."

_"Don't worry. She's on my tracking device."_

The blonde heiress started laughing at her best friend's conviction. It already happened twice – Tom Jacobs got beaten up by the same pale and short woman – but still, Chloe Beale just wouldn't get the point. Moreover, the manifestations of the guy being a natural jerk were everywhere, but there she was again, waiting for some miracle to finally happen.

"You know, sometimes," Aubrey told her companion, "I'd love to see you throw her a hard punch. A really hard one, please? Then maybe, just maybe, that can put some pretty nice sense into her terribly stupid head."

_"And then you'll be in one hell of a trouble with her rich and powerful father who has his very own army by the way."_

Beca sighed heavily struggling to stretch out her very short patience. Why did she have to listen to these two contradicting women at the same time? It could have been a lot more convenient for everyone to lock up Aubrey and Fat Amy in one room and just leave them both until one has finally killed the other.

"I really hate that Tom," the blonde heiress started muttering as she lamentably shook her head. "I hate him. I really really hate him. I swear to God I hate him."

"Then why are you here? Why did you accept his invitation?" questioned the other.

Frantically, Aubrey removed her shades then turned to her side so Beca could see the wrath displayed on her face.

"First of all, I did _not_ accept his invitation. Your one hell of an idiot boss dragged me down here to Florida against my will. Hear that? _Against_ my will. Second, Chloe is paying for all of this, so it's not like I'm going to owe that douchebag something. Besides... look at the view, Branson. It's _Miami_! You don't pass up Miami."

"She's right."

But the brunette already had her attention on the conversation diminishing every second, showing no more interest on anything else that would come out of the young heiress' mouth.

"But I'm not going to that beach party tonight," Aubrey's voice passed from one ear to another. "I'd rather go shopping or party at some club somewhere. I'm sorry, but you're going to be on your own tonight, Branson."

_"Ha! I will never leave you on your own, Beca. You know that."_

Hearing this, Beca reached for the glass of beverage and took a drink. Much to her company's bewilderment, she looked at the glass and said, "Ah, tastes like bacon. Bacon, bacon, bacon. More bacon. Bacon. Lots and lots of bacon…"

_"Fuck you. My stomach is now growling. I'll have to leave you for a while."_

The brunette subsequently let out a triumphant huff as she listened to the faded sound of Fat Amy's tormented breaths. The Australian blonde was probably already on her way to the kitchen or to the nearest fast food chain to satisfy her growing needs.

"You really are a creep, aren't you?" remarked the blonde heiress who had no idea about the secret conversations made through the hidden earpiece.

Beca deliberately brushed it off leaning back to her chair for her own period of relaxation. Let's face it, she needed some rest too and what could be the more perfect time than this? She closed her eyes and started making an attempt to drift off to sleep while technically, she was temporarily off duty. It didn't surprise her anymore, unlike the first time it happened, that when she closed her eyes, she was looking directly into Chloe's bright blue ones. It's been almost a week of waiting since that confrontation with Stan; still, no termination or further instruction was released from The Secret Society. But Beca knew it was going to come inevitably. With no more treasure to find, this special mission would soon be over. Before long, she would have to quit her undercover job as the bodyguard. Eventually, she would have to leave Chloe and probably never see her again for the rest of her life. She figured then that it was certainly the time to start getting used to the redheaded monster's absence. Guess she would just have to deceive her own self that it was actually what she wanted.

"I can't believe you still haven't figured it out," Aubrey's voice penetrated Beca's thoughts much to her dismay, but the brunette chose to ignore it otherwise. "There is no way in hell that Chloe hasn't told you about Tom's promise yet."

Beca didn't speak or move.

"So you should know by now the reason why I sent you to bring my best friend to her mother's grave," the blonde added.

But the bodyguard still offered no response.

"Beca!" she called out.

The brunette kept her eyes closed and her breathing as steady as possible making her appear deeply asleep. Aubrey made one last look at her before leaning back to her chair once more. She let out a loud sigh thinking her efforts were useless as her company didn't get to hear her words. Well, the truth was, Beca was listening. If the young heiress was trying to imply that she purposely set them up to comply with the most anticipated miracle, Beca heard her words and understood exactly what they meant. But perhaps, Aubrey's efforts were still useless because Beca Branson had finally decided to cut off any unauthorized feelings she surprisingly had for Chloe Beale.

* * *

Luke tapped the end button on his phone screen, shoved it into his pocket, and then irately ran his eyes over the rest of the men in black suit. The phone conversation did not go smoothly, and so he had to vent the frustration to his men.

"What the fuck has happened to your research assignment?" he asked nobody in particular, his words were filled with rage and ready to burst out into a yell any moment. "I thought I said I want it done immediately!"

Nobody from the rest of the group offered a response, and that did it, the blonde head of security started shouting at their faces in no time.

"Where on earth is her fucking profile, you bunch of idiots?"

"I-It's all there is, sir," one nervously reported. "Beca Branson has a very clean profile."

Luke angrily grabbed him by the collar, and so the man trembled in fear.

"And you honestly think that's the kind of report I want to hear?"

"O-Of course not, sir," the man in black suit quickly shook his head. His superior released him from the grip, and then glared at the rest of the group.

"Every demon has at least one single flaw. Remember that, people. There's a reason why Beca Branson has a very clean profile. That means, in reality, it isn't. That's her own flaw. But we don't know exactly what it is yet and that's why I gave you that fucking research assignment to work on. We have to know exactly what that flaw is. We figure that out, and she's out of the picture. And that's what we want. We want her out of the picture. Do you understand?"

While the rest of the group fretfully nodded their heads, from out of the blue, the one with curly hair and dark complexion named Paul shot his hand up in the air. Luke turned his gaze towards him, and signaled him to proceed with his statement.

"Will it matter if the kid is already out of the picture?" Paul asked as innocently as possible. "I mean, for one, it's all against one. She's not going to stand a fight, you know it. Plus, will getting her out of the picture change Clarence's mind? So what if his daughter's bodyguard is out? Will that make him change his plans?"

"Everybody who feels threatened and vulnerable is always forced to move to Plan B, Paul. There's nowhere else to go but Plan B."

"So you think Plan B includes him finally revealing the secret to you?"

Luke paused for a moment as he slowly walked towards the older man, making a halt right in front of him. He tilted his head to the side and wondered, "What are you trying to get at?"

"There has to be a reason why Beale won't tell you the secret," the other simply replied.

"And what do you think that is?"

"I'm just thinking," Paul started, his eyes briefly looked down at his feet for a last minute contemplation before directing his eyes back to his superior. "Maybe it isn't Branson who has to prove her loyalty to Clarence Beale. Maybe it's you, Luke."

"I've been working for him for years," Luke quietly hissed.

"Yet he trusted that Benji boy more than he has ever trusted you."

And that made the head of security shut his mouth. It was true. Clarence Beale trusted that Benji boy enough to tell him about the secret. Luke was only entrusted with the security plans. It was totally unfair and so gut-wrenching when you've been rendering services to the man your entire life.

"Clarence Beale may have an army of his own," Paul added, "but he knows too well that only those who could be trusted can truly protect him and his daughter."

"So you think he trusts Branson and not me," the blonde bitterly concluded.

The other man in black suit pursed his lips together and shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, Branson is entrusted with Beale's greatest treasure… are you?"

Luke angrily turned towards the rest of the security group much to their surprise. He gritted his teeth and balled his fists. Letting out a frustrated gasp, he launched another dagger look at the battalion of men in black suit, and then yelled out, "Find that fucking flaw and get her out of here!"

Everybody frantically moved to work on the research assignment desperate to dig in the necessary dirt they were asked to before Luke could burst out again. However, Paul coolly pulled out a cigarette stick from his cigarette case then marched out of the room. There was no point of staying with the rest of them. He knew his comrades were wasting their time trying to trace Beca Branson because there was no Beca Branson to begin with. Well, he was obviously done with his own research anyway. He had already found the perfect flaw. Too bad though, he owed his life to Beca _Mitchell_.

* * *

The past several minutes were probably the worst moment in Beca's life. Pretending to be asleep, she had to endure Aubrey's stories about a nonsense yet popular reality television show to a friend she was talking to on the phone. And oh, Fat Amy was back and she was definitely generous with side comments and was surprisingly adequately knowledgeable about the subject. Nobody asked, but yes, Beca was trying to sleep by the way.

"I'll see you in a few days. Ciao."

_Finally_, Beca screamed inside her head. The atmosphere was then filled with silence… except from the sound of waves rushing to the shore, the roars of the guys playing some Frisbee, and Fat Amy loudly munching some chips at the other end of the line. Okay, so it wasn't that silent. Still, Beca went on to find her peace of mind determined to finally fall asleep.

"Beca, you awake?" Aubrey's voice rang in her ears once again and Beca struggled not to snap. The blonde heiress waited for her company to move or say something, but the bodyguard remained still. Perhaps, you just couldn't wake up somebody who's already awake.

"I'm glad you haven't killed each other yet."

Apparently, with Beca you could. As soon as Chloe's voice reached her ears, the brunette shut her eyes open and stood on her feet. Suddenly, she had her jaw involuntarily dropped down caught unprepared in amazement at the sight of the bikini-clad redhead. It wasn't the first time she'd seen those exposed skins, but for some reason, this time was different - this time, there's this significant chance that she would call 'dibs' on this woman. Without even realizing, she had her eyes lingering on that almost naked body. Those dark blue orbs continued to wander up until she was staring at Chloe's awkward why-are-you-looking-at-me-like-that look. A few more seconds and Beca finally came back to her senses and hurriedly looked away in embarrassment. _Fuck._ A heads up from Fat Amy could have been greatly appreciated.

"Finally, you decided to show up."

Thanks to Aubrey for trying to divert everyone's attention from the uncomfortable scenario. Beca purposely cleared her throat while her lady boss forced her usual charming smile and turned to her best friend.

"Care to join me for a little walk?" she asked the blonde.

Aubrey automatically nodded her head and stood up. The two heiresses started to walk away and Beca moved to trail behind them as part of her bodyguard duties. However, Chloe stopped her immediately and asked her to stay.

"We won't go too far," the redhead assured. "You can stay right here."

The usual blank stare was stained with a bit of confusion. Never did the young Beale asked her to stay away. Not even when she was pretending to be mad at her. Hence, it was quite strange that for once she didn't want the brunette to stay close to her. Even Aubrey Posen was indeed taken aback maintaining a watchful eye at the two. What was up?

_"She has her phone. I'll keep my track on. Don't worry."_

So despite her personal disapproval, Beca compellingly nodded her head and watched the two heiresses walk away. Sooner or later anyway, she would be back to her old life where this redheaded monster didn't exist. Might as well start getting used to not spending 24/7 together.

* * *

"So what's up?" asked Aubrey turning her eyes to her best friend who was obviously getting more fidgety with every step they took.

Chloe glanced at the blonde with this look, the meaning of which the Posen heiress already had memorized. Failing to speak out, the redhead looked away and sighed.

"Hey," Aubrey grabbed her best friend for a halt. "What's going on, Chloe?"

The other breathed out and shrugged her shoulders, but still no words came out of her mouth.

"Is there something wrong? Where's your boyfriend? Did the douchebag do something bad again?"

Chloe hurriedly shook her head.

"Then what is it? Come on, Chloe. You're making me worry here."

The redhead tore away from their eye contact to stare down at her feet. After a few more sighs and gestures of hesitation, she finally looked back to meet Aubrey's eyes.

"Tom asked me to marry him," she spoke out.

Aubrey Posen gasped in utter disbelief, her mouth and eyes wide open. She subsequently shook her head disapprovingly at her nervous best friend. Why oh why on earth did this day have to come? Her beloved best friend to marry a douchebag in the form of Tom Jacobs? No way. Certainly, there's no way in hell!

"What did you tell him?" she asked. But before Chloe could even utter a word, Aubrey held a hand up to stop her. "_Don't_ tell me you said 'yes'. Please, Chloe. For the love of God, _please_ don't tell me you said 'yes'... 'cause if that's the case, I swear I'm just going to drown myself here."

"Well…" Chloe's voice trailed off as she began playing with her phone - her hand noticeably failed to display an engagement ring much to her best friend's relief. "I told him I would think about it first."

"Great!" the blonde rejoiced. "You should really-"

"But then he got very persistent, Aubrey; asked me if I love him… and if I do, then I should marry him."

Aubrey could see the worst fast approaching and the only thing she could do was to firmly shake her head in denial, "No, Chloe."

"So I eventually said 'yes'," the redhead officially announced causing the feeling of being betrayed on the part of Aubrey Posen. Hence, those tears rolling down on the blonde's cheeks.

"You are so fucking stupid, Chloe."

And Chloe nodded her head in agreement and muttered, "Yeah, maybe I am."

"You know what I said about you acting like a 12-year-old kid most of the time?" the blonde struggled to contain her frustration as she harshly wiped her tears off. "I take it back. I am taking it back because this decision you made is much more immature than that. This is completely stupid, Chloe. You're going to marry the worst guy on earth."

"I never expected you to agree with this. I never expected you to be happy about it. No, not even try to pretend. But at least I was hoping you could somehow act like my best friend."

"I _am_ your best friend, Chloe. I've been trying to tell you all this time how much of a jerk that guy is. I'm trying to protect you here. I am telling you right now that you shouldn't marry this guy because I am your fucking best friend. That's what a so-called best friend would do."

Chloe sighed then lowered her head slightly. "Then I'm sorry. But it's going to happen, Aubrey. I'm going to marry Tom."

"You don't have to do that!" the other exclaimed in protest. "Why the hell are you doing this?"

And the redhead simply chuckled sadly in response.

"Chloe," Aubrey pleadingly groaned as she moved closer to her best friend and held her shoulders.

"I'm doing this… because I think I'm falling for someone else."

"What?"

Chloe directed her eyes towards her best friend and put on that genuine smile. "I think I'm falling for someone else, Aubrey."

"Then break up with the douche!" frustratingly ordered the blonde. "Don't marry him!"

"But I shouldn't be falling for this other person," Chloe shook her head. "It's too much of a miracle to be loved by-"

"Beca," the other cut her off. "It's Beca, isn't it?"

And the redhead didn't respond. Instead, she stared down at her feet and let out a huff.

"Maybe it's too much of a miracle to be loved by a crazy creep," her best friend agreed. "But maybe, at least this one could be possible."

"What if it isn't?" challenged the other. "I bet it's going to be really painful that I might not be able to handle it. At least with Tom, I don't think there's anything else he could do to hurt me more."

With that, Aubrey froze in place just staring at her best friend. Who knew how much time had passed before she threw her arms around Chloe for a tight embrace. Why was this happening? Chloe Beale might have been a 23-year-old grown woman who was trying to make this mature decision when in fact she was just this fragile child hopelessly waiting for all her miracles to happen. No, it was definitely not fair at all.

* * *

Stan entered the Research Room with a pack of beers on hand. He placed it on the table and sat on the chair across Jesse who was deeply preoccupied with his own paper works.

"Killed a Syndic today," the young Mitchell proudly pronounced. "Take a break and join me in my celebration, man. Fat Amy said you've been working here all day."

But the other brunet shook his head.

"Maybe later. I'm trying to finish this report. Phil is expecting it tonight."

"What is that all about anyway?"

Jesse paused for a moment wondering if he should tell about it to Stan. Was it confidential? Well, Phil didn't tell him so.

"I'm plotting the other potential locations of the treasure. Phil will be sending Blue and Red to go check on them."

"Blue and Red?" the young Mitchell looked very surprised. "So they're, like, part of the team now?"

Again, Jesse paused. Apparently, the team was growing but the rest of the members were not well-informed about the moderate changes in the plan just as he had guessed. Blue and Red were added and so was Cynthia Rose and of course, Stacie. Should he tell Stan about all of them? Phil's voice suddenly rang in his head: _do they have to know, Jesse?_ Seriously, was it really a question he needed to answer?

"Well, Phil wants to find the treasure fast," he nervously shrugged.

"But Beca already said there's no treasure."

"This is your father's order."

"We could be wasting our time here."

"So you do believe that there's no treasure?" Jesse questioned, and Stan couldn't give an answer. The man looked away and reached for a bottle of beer and opened it up for him to drink. "You know there has to be a treasure, Stan."

The young Mitchell let out a sigh then stared down at the table.

"If he's sending his men to check on these potential locations, what about Beca then?"

Jesse shook his head in response.

"I only know what Phil asks me to do. I don't know about how the rest of the plan would go. But surely, Beca is still a major player in this. She has a very strategic position. When the time comes, Phil will have a very important task for her. The Secret Society is frankly counting on her, you know that."

Stan chuckled. "We can't afford to lose her, yet she's too exposed in the field."

"Well, we all have a mission to accomplish."

"What does it feel like to kill someone, Jesse?" asked the young Mitchell from out of the blue.

Startled, Jesse finally stopped working, dropped his pen, and grabbed a beer to drink.

"I-I believe you've killed more people than I did, Stan. You must know the feeling already."

"True," the other nodded casually. "But your first and only kill is Benji. And he was your best friend, right? You two were like brothers. Tell me, Swanson, what does it feel like to kill your brother?"

"I-I…" Jesse stuttered then paused. "It's… the hardest thing to do... But there's a code, and I had to do it. I-I guess… it was for me to prove my Fidelity to The Society."

"Congratulations then," the other raised his beer to honor his friend and then took a big gulp of the alcohol.

"It's no big deal. Everybody has to prove their fidelity anyway."

Again, Stan Mitchell chuckled.

"But I have never proven mine."

"What?" Jesse quickly restrained himself from spitting out the liquid from his mouth.

"Phil took me in because Beca requested. It's not even because I'm my father's son."

With that, Stan took another big gulp of his beer while his friend stared at him silently wondering about all the stories of the past and the possibilities of tomorrow. Moreover, this Phoenix still had yet to prove his fidelity. So what kind of a mission would he have to accomplish for it? Worse, knowing his luck with Phil, who would he have to kill?

* * *

"Where's Aubrey?"

Beca Branson turned around to see that the redheaded monster had joined her at the terrace of the enormous suite. This time she was wearing a blue summer dress complementing those bright blue eyes that the bodyguard couldn't help but gaze upon.

"She went out," the brunette answered.

"Did she say where?"

_"Just let the blonde bitch get lost in the city._"

"Nowhere specific. She only said she's going to get wasted tonight because…" Beca's voice suddenly trailed off as she was about to say something that could shatter everybody's heart. "…because you're getting married… to Tom."

Chloe chuckled. Was it really that hard to accept the news? It's as if it was some sort of an unspeakable truth.

"Well, aren't you going to congratulate me on my engagement?"

"And why would I do that?"

_"Bitter."_

The redhead threw her a look and folded her arms over her chest authoritatively.

"Because occasions like this is one of the happiest moments in life."

"But you don't look happy," Beca argued and her boss had to shut her mouth in surrender. Chloe let her arms fall down to her sides and stare back at her bodyguard. Was it really that obvious?

_"Just let her go, Beca. You still have Stacie waiting for you anyway."_

The brunette deliberately ignored Fat Amy's half-meant joke while the awkward silence began dominating the entire terrace. Neither of the two spoke a word. The atmosphere was rather too quiet that when the phone clenched in her hand rang, the young heiress jumped a little in surprise. Beca watched her frantically slide on the phone screen to answer the call.

"This is Chloe Beale speaking," she stated and paused to let the other person speak. In an instant, Chloe's face crooked in confusion. "I-I'm sorry. You probably have the wrong number… What?"

_"Fuck. This is not happening."_

_What is happening_, Beca wanted to ask Fat Amy who was then wiretapping the redhead's ongoing phone conversation. But of course she couldn't. So instead, she patiently waited and watched her boss frown as the conversation progressed.

"B-But… t-that's…" Chloe paused for a moment to pull herself together; her face suddenly was as pale as a ghost, and the growing agitation was manifested in her struggle to formulate a sensible sentence. "Who is this? Wait! Hello? Hello?"

_"This is not good."_

As much as she wanted to, Beca couldn't do anything. She had to act like she was not pre-informed about the nature of the conversation. Her pair of dark blue orbs was fixed on the redheaded heiress who was disturbingly speechless with tears threatening to fall off any moment.

"Are you alright?" Beca asked, her voice obviously reflected worry and concern.

_"She's not._"

Chloe turned her eyes towards the brunette wearing that particular look on her face which Beca had to try to resist only to fail each time.

"I need you right now more than ever," was the redhead's reply. "Would you... come with me, please?"

Even without knowing where exactly to go, the bodyguard positively nodded her head without any amount of hesitation. Then as she followed Chloe Beale to the door, Beca came to this crucial realization that the time had come that she would do anything for this redheaded monster. And that's not really good.

* * *

_Okay, I know it's so cruel to keep you hanging... Please forgive me._

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Pitch Perfect.


	12. Heartbreaker

_Looking into your reviews, I hope I still have some alive readers out there, not dead bodies. LOL. And I think there's one proper answer for all of you: you'll have to keep reading; I'll answer your questions (about the treasure, Stan, etc.) through the chapters. I don't want to spoil it all to you. :) And this is probably not the next chapter that you've been expecting. Again, it's a balance of happiness and sadness. So in advance, please don't hate me. I'm so sorry it took me so long to update, by the way. I literally just finished writing the chapter..._

* * *

CHAPTER TWELVE: **Heartbreaker**

Chloe Beale looked anxious, sad, doubtful, and afraid all at the same time, and there was no doubt that the single phone call from an unknown caller made her feel that way. Because she didn't want to bother her boss anymore and Fat Amy won't tell her, Beca Branson had no idea what was going on except from the fact that something terrible had happened, was happening, or would happen. Whatever the verb tense would be, she knew Chloe needed her so badly, so she stayed close to the redhead even though the uneasy and too quiet elevator ride was killing her already.

The elevator door slowly opened when they finally reached the 17th floor. Chloe dragged herself out with her bodyguard following closely. The young heiress strolled at the hallway occasionally turning her head from one side to the other as if searching for a particular door, a particular room. Then, at the end of the hallway, at the last door, she finally stopped. Beca stood right behind her as they both stared at the room number displayed on the wooden door.

"_I'm ready to open. Just give me the signal."_

Chloe raised her trembling fist up supposedly to knock, but ended up dropping it back to her side. Beca figured such gesture meant that the redhead's presence in this room was uninvited. But the young heiress seemed to be too desperate to enter the premises, so the bodyguard walked past her towards the door and held on the knob.

"Open," she muttered - secretly ordered Fat Amy to be exact - and so after a few more seconds, the installed security device lighted green signifying that the door was then unlocked.

Never mind that for someone who didn't have any card key on hand at that particular moment, the act should have been too suspicious; Chloe simply stood in place. So to give her a little drive, the bodyguard pushed the door open as soundless as possible to let her boss in. Hesitant at first, the redhead eventually started to walk, dragging herself further inside the room, her entire body shaking, bracing for the worst thing to happen.

"_Good luck."_

Beca heard Fat Amy's warning and furthermore wondered why. Nevertheless, she alertly trailed behind the young heiress anticipating a sudden attack from an enemy, hence quite prepared to pull her knife out from her breast pocket any moment. But just as they got closer and closer to where the bed should be, loud moans and groans along with some heavy breathing became more evident to her hearing sense. It was then that she had finally put a picture on what was terribly happening.

She quickly ran after Chloe, to stand to block her way before she could pass by the wall which was frankly the only barrier keeping the 'terrible thing' from their sight; to prevent her from the worst of the worst ways to get your heart broken, but Beca Branson was too late. The redhead was already standing at the foot of the bed where her so-called _fiancé _was banging the hell out of this slutty looking blonde.

"Fuck you."

Really, it was so amazing how Chloe had still managed to utter something without stammering and in the most fearsome voice that Beca had ever heard from her despite of the thunderous sound of her heart shattering into thousand pieces.

Tom and no-one-cares-what-her-name-is instantly stopped and turned their heads to witness the presence of the two unsolicited guests in the room. The guy franticly picked up the discarded shirt on the floor and used it to cover himself.

"I can explain."

He started walking towards his most-likely-soon-to-be-ex-fiancé, but Chloe had already turned away and headed out. No, she's not going to give him the pleasure of seeing her hurt and miserable.

"Chloe, wait!"

Tom tried to follow, but her bodyguard stood right in front of him blocking his way. Irritated, he fixed a dagger look at her.

"Get out of my way, bitch."

"She doesn't want to talk to you, asshole."

Annoyed, the douchebag pushed her violently, but Beca furiously shoved him in return causing him to fall back down on the floor.

"I want to hurt you right now so badly," she warned him.

"_Just do it."_

Angered by the fact that he's losing to this pale and short woman once again, Tom pointed a threatening finger at her as he strained to get back to his feet. However, without any more warning, Beca pulled out her pocket knife and threw it accurately towards her target. In a matter of a second, Tom could only scream in pain when his hand was pinned down to the floor with the knife keeping it securely into place, blood quickly oozes out from the wound.

"_Ah, such beautiful sound."_

"I should have told you I'm better at long range."

Beca made one last look at the struggling man, and then at the clearly frightened blonde woman on the bed before exiting the room to look for her runaway boss. Just as what Fat Amy had informed her, the brunette found the young heiress at the nearest fire exit; her entire body weakly leaned on the wall; her usual piercing bright blue eyes then filled with tears were blank and distant. So Aubrey was definitely right - Chloe was this stupid. And apparently, Chloe was wrong once again. Unexpectedly, there was still something else that Tom could do to hurt her more, and it was frankly the most painful of them all.

Based on previous incidences, this should have been the part where the typical Beca would say 'cry me a river' or 'go kill yourself'. Instead, she kept her mouth shut and her concerned eyes fixed on the redhead. She didn't know anything about giving comfort, but ultimately, she found herself slowly walking towards the wall, standing next to the redhead, and then leaning her back on it as well wishing along that she could somehow absorb some of the pain in the process – the agony to travel from Chloe's heart through the wall and towards hers. Chloe obviously needed her and Beca needed to fix the broken heart as much as possible. She just hated seeing the redhead like this.

"_Say something. Do something."_

Thank goodness Fat Amy was there to coach her. In no time, the brunette deliberately turned to her side and sincerely said, "He just lost the most wonderful woman in the world."

"_That's so sweet, Beca."_

Chloe then turned her head towards her bodyguard; her lips surprisingly had this weak smile on, and it was a relief for two reasons. First, it meant that Beca's attempt to make her feel better was oddly successful. Second and was far more important, it meant that Tom wasn't able to suck up all of her sunlight. No matter how little remained in there the brunette was relieved to see some faint light after the darkest of the darkest moments – it was like the sight of that olive leaf in the second dove's mouth after one hundred and fifty days of the Great Flood. Then from out of the blue, for the second time ever, Beca Branson was wiping off the tears off Chloe's face, pulled her close, and hugged her tight much to the redhead's surprise. Well, Fat Amy did say to do something.

* * *

As soon as the two parties met at the heart of an abandoned building, Luke and his men automatically had their guns pointed at the enemies. Threatened by this sudden move, Stan and the rest raised their guns as well.

"Put it down!" Clarence ordered his head security, and so the blonde man despite of his disagreement had no choice but to follow forwarding the same instruction down to his inferiors.

Seeing this, Phil briefly waved his right hand commanding his own men to put their guns away as well. Afterwards, he put on a smirk and directed his eyes towards his former friend.

"I'm glad you haven't forgotten about this place."

"You don't forget about happy memories."

"Memories," Phil contemplated the concept then eventually chuckled. "They don't value much, Clarence."

His former friend shook his head, "Neither does money, Phil."

"That's the thing when you have plenty of such resources. And you're lucky that you can say that because for somebody who doesn't have anything at all, money means the whole fucking world to them."

The redhead frowned at the retort, tore his eyes away, and sighed.

"I thought we're going to talk privately," he muttered.

The oldest Mitchell turned to Blue and Red, and so along with the other Phoenixes, they marched out towards the back of the building. Luke and the rest of the men in black suit simultaneously displaced leaving the two heads on their own.

"You didn't have to kill Benji," Clarence stated.

"The Secret Society is no place for traitors," reminded the other. "There is a code we all need to abide with. I should have _you_ killed for betraying us as well."

"But I'm still alive."

"You still have the treasure."

"We both know that you don't have the right to it."

Phil shook his head disapprovingly and firmly replied, "I know it belongs to The Society."

"Fuck this shit!" the other exclaimed in frustration. "I practically funded the fucking organization, Phil. It's a dead one without me."

"The treasure will suffice."

"And then you'll _kill_ me," quickly added the other voicing out the truth in the situation. It was the only thing keeping him alive. The moment they would find the treasure, Clarence would be nothing but disposable.

The brunet simply nodded his head, "I'm glad you still know how it works."

"This is unfair."

Suddenly, Phil Mitchell burst out into a fit of laughter as if Clarence Beale had just made a hilarious joke. For the man in the suit and tie though, it wasn't funny at all, and his face was not so shy to deny his frustration and dismay.

"Of all people, I never thought I'd hear you say that, Clarence." The brunet let his laughter subside as he lowered his gaze, his mind pondering the words of a former friend. "Of all people, I thought you're the one who shares the same idea with me on what 'unfair' means... because we grew up together; we know what it feels like to be _scavengers_ in this cruel world; to be abandoned by a _selfish_ system of plutocrats... some moneybags who couldn't think about anything else but themselves."

"The Society saved me, I know. And I'll never forget."

"But I have to remind you the picture of 'unfair' 'cause you're so dressed up now you have seemed to forget what it's like to shiver to death during the cold nights... to beg, to sleep with an empty stomach, to survive while you're practically dying... You may live in a huge manor now, Clarence, but there are many people across the globe who desperately needs that treasure which you can definitely spare."

This time, Clarence was the one to let out a laugh, and then eventually took some steps forward until he was already face-to-face with his former friend, directing his eyes towards his consequently.

"You know what's worse than watching lovers revert to strangers?"

"What?"

"Watching your _best_ friend become your worst enemy."

And Phil Mitchell did not respond. Yeah, maybe it's an understatement to call Clarence his friend. The man was his best friend, his only family before The Society came into the picture. But then he chose the code, and this is the tragic consequence.

"This is probably the last friendly advice I can give you," Clarence told him. "You don't save one's life by taking away another's... and you don't fool me, Phil. Everybody has their own agenda. That's the sad reality. I'd rather have you a Phoenix than a Syndic."

With that, the redhead gave a little pat on Phil's shoulder then walked past him towards the way out of the abandoned building.

"Just surrender the treasure, Clarence," Phil hurriedly turned around to make sure the other was still there to listen his demand.

"Let's go treasure-hunting in Moscow, shall we?" Beale replied without bothering to give a look. Instead, he continued to walk on his path towards the exit where his security group was anxiously waiting for him. It was a quiet march out of hell until suddenly, he made a halt. Turning around calmly, Clarence fixed his eyes on Phil for one last time. "And leave my daughter out of this."

Phil was taken aback when he saw that pair of eyes - it wasn't a Phoenix's or a Croesus', but it was incredibly the eyes of a loving father. He knew then that no matter what he'd do, Clarence Beale would still be much better than him because he was so good at being someone Phil could never be to his own children.

* * *

Chloe quietly stood in place as she watched her father hastily signed some documents at the home office. His private jet bound to Moscow already awaited for him. Once in a while, she would briefly flash a small smile whenever the man would glance up from his papers; she decided she couldn't give him the impression that she was actually at her worst state ever. Clarence Beale already had a lot of things to worry about; her recent break up should be the last priority here.

"I don't know how long I'd be gone," confessed the father. "It's a very important business meeting, honey, so if you need anything just tell Gail about it. There's no need to call me overseas; I already gave her some instructions."

"Yes, dad."

"Half of the security will remain here for you with Paul to lead them. But of course, you have Beca to stay with you all the time while I'm gone."

"Yes, dad."

Clarence turned to the silent bodyguard standing attentively behind her boss. One quick glance and they both got the message.

"Whenever wherever, you must have somebody to accompany you, Chloe."

"Yes, dad."

Finally, the last document among the pile was signed. Clarence pushed them aside for a man in black suit to pick them up and brought them out of the office. The older Beale stood up from his chair and walked over to his daughter.

"I'm sorry I can't stay with you right now," he told her, gently holding her chin. He knew. Of course, he knew what his daughter was going through. "You deserve someone better, sweetheart."

The tears were threatening to fall off one more time as the memory started to flash in her mind over and over again, but Chloe forced a nod and a smile. She had to assure him that she was doing just fine.

"Promise you'd hug me tight when you get back," she mumbled.

Clarence lowered his gaze not wanting his daughter to make out the truth in his eyes. Truth be told, he might not come back. Ever. So he let out a sigh and gave her a tight embrace probably for the last time.

"I _need_ you to be safe, Chloe."

"I will be, dad. Don't worry."

He finally released her from his arms and looked at her face for one last time.

"I love you."

And for the first time since Tom crushed her heart back in Miami, Chloe felt truly happy, and her biggest smile in days was finally seen on her face.

"I love you, too, dad."

Clarence held her cheeks as he gave her a peck on top of her head before walking out of the room with content in his chest along with all his apprehensions. At least, it was a beautiful goodbye. If he would ever die in Moscow in the most dangerous treasure hunting, at least Chloe would remember him for such beautiful goodbye – a loving father and not a selfish man.

* * *

Since that day her father left, all the crying and late night sobbing had come to a stop, but unfortunately, Chloe's world was then confined within the walls of her bedroom. She would wake up in the morning, barely touch her breakfast set at a table by the balcony followed by a quick shower, go back to bed, stare at her meal during lunch time, pretend to listen to Aubrey, endure yet another meal for the day, then let time pass until she would drift off for the night to the sound of Bon Iver's album _For Emma, Forever Ago_. Repeat every step and that was the daily routine of the heartbroken redhead. Fuck Justin Vernon for hiding away in a cabin after a bad break up and ended up creating the universal album for all the brokenhearted. And fuck Tom Jacobs for making Chloe Beale one of them.

It was on the third day, the third afternoon to be exact, that Beca Branson had figured out the routine. So everytime best friend Aubrey reluctantly had to attend her social obligations for her father's sake, Beca took it upon herself to stay inside the room with her boss. Her post was then unconsciously transferred from the carpeted floor of the bright hallway to the cream-colored couch in the gloomy room behind the pink door. Chloe didn't know it, but by the mere sight of her misery, Beca's heart was dying along with hers. Every pain inflicted into her body and soul, Beca felt them ten times harder and ten times more painful. Too bad though, no matter what, the scar Tom left was rather too permanent.

"_Try talking to her."_

Fat Amy's suggestion was a failed one just by the thought of it. What would she say? Well, Beca was never a talker to begin with. Indeed, she was the worst at it… unless, of course, we include her rude comments, her sense of sarcasm, and the frequent cursing and death threats. It won't help to cheer up a heartbroken woman, definitely.

"_Come on, you've been with a lonely woman before. What do you do?"_

What does Beca do? Fuck her. A lonely woman would come and ask her to make her happy, and that's what she would do. Whether or not it actually fixed the broken heart, Beca didn't care. She didn't even bother to ask at all. But Chloe Beale here was different. She's not just another lonely woman in Beca's life. She was rather too exceptional. She was someone the brunette actually cared about. So no, she's not going to fuck her up.

Thankfully, the door creaked open signifying the arrival of Aubrey Posen. Beca could finally breathe a little for the day; the blonde would surely know how to take it from there.

"Any progress?" she quietly asked, joining the brunette on the couch. "Sorry, I needed to be at this dinner party."

In response, Beca raised her hand to present the redhead sitting on her pink Hello Kitty sleeping bag at the balcony. And that was it. That was the only progress that day, if you could actually call it a progress in the first place. It was already ten in the evening, and instead of heading to bed to sleep, Chloe opted to stargaze on her own – wordless, soundless, and almost lifeless.

"Blindsided," Aubrey recognized the fifth track on the album quietly playing inside the room.

"It's the second round," said the other as a matter of fact.

And so the young Posen sighed heavily. It was bad. Chloe was never good at handling unfortunate circumstances – yes, she was known for that, but she was getting worse every day. For her best friend, it felt like Louise Beale had died again and she could only helplessly watch the redhead sulk in the corner once more. Well, we all have Tom Jacobs to thank for this.

"I'm still disappointed that you didn't slaughter the douche," she quietly hissed glancing at the bodyguard for a brief glare before standing up to join her best friend in the balcony.

Yeah, Beca was disappointed in herself as well. She could have just killed the guy during their first encounter back at that restaurant, and none of this would happen. Everything could have just ended back there, and maybe Chloe wouldn't be this miserable. Beca would rather have the redheaded monster to hate her forever for killing her boyfriend out of jealousy-she-wouldn't-admit than see her like this slowly killing herself over the same douchebag.

"Come on, Chloe," Aubrey started shouting. "That guy doesn't deserve your tears."

But the redhead didn't respond.

"You shouldn't be here moping around in agony. In case you didn't notice, you haven't left this room in a week! You're supposed to go out there – go shopping, party with all the dudes, have the most fun as you can, celebrate the hell out of it because that's what you deserve! You're supposed to be happy and lively, not _this_."

Still, no response.

"If you're not yet tired of feeling sorry for yourself, well, the rest of us are tired of watching you unhappy. This has to stop, Chloe. I know you're hurting, but we are too. I'm sick of talking without you listening to me. I'm sick of trying to cheer you up when you're not even making an effort at all. And I'm sick of Bon Iver singing his break up songs to you."

"I'm sorry," was all the redhead's reply before drifting back to her own little world.

Aubrey had no choice but to let out a deep sigh and hopelessly stare at her best friend. Tom better stay wherever he'd been hiding because the blonde would undoubtedly murder him when she sees him.

"Aubrey's right," Beca spoke out. And surprisingly, Chloe turned her head towards the brunette; she was finally listening. "You should go out."

"You think?"

Beca looked over at Aubrey who was giving her this hopeful and beseeching look and she realized then that the ball was already on her hands. Chloe was finally listening, and she was listening to her.

"I think…" Beca's voice trailed off pressured on what to say. She's not good with this and she'd admit that any time of the day. But she had to say something. For Chloe. "I think you should take a break. All of us should take a break. Tonight."

_"And what do you mean by that?"_

"It's been more than a week of drowning in the sea, and it's exhausting. I guess it's time for a bon fire or a barbeque thing at the shore. We need a break. And you need to know what it feels like to be alive again."

Beca shifted her eyes towards her lady boss. No smile crept on her lips, but at least she nodded her head. It was a good sign. Subsequently, Aubrey hurried to stop the music playing, and clapped her hands together in excitement.

"Call your friends, Beca," instructed the blonde. "Let's all hang out together."

_"I'll take a break, but I am not hanging out with the blonde bitch."_

Beca let out a huff. She could already see trouble everywhere in the proposed idea starting with the two blondes. But, yes, they all definitely needed a break. And so most especially for Chloe's sake, she stood from the couch.

"Let's go to Pandemonium then," she declared. "We'll surely find them there."

Chloe eventually took Aubrey's extended hand and stood from her seat. Okay, fuck being brokenhearted. She's going to try to be alive again this evening. However, along with the heartaches and pain, seemed like her promise to her father not to go back to that nightclub was about to be forgotten as well.

* * *

This evening was a break for everybody, even for both the visible and hidden communication devices – Fat Amy and Jesse agreed to create a fake recording to cover up for the report. Indeed, Pandemonium seemed to be the perfect escape. It was a night without Phil, Clarence, stolen treasure, Phoenix, men in black suit, ex-fiancé, missions, codes, broken hearts, worries, pressures, and many others. It was simply a night intended for good times. And they had a club remix of _Blurred Lines _to go along with it.

"Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!"

The rest of the group cheered for Chloe as she continued to play Power [Half an] Hour all by herself. It was the fourth thirty minutes and her fourth mug of beer followed by all of them doing a shot of tequila. Hopefully though, they'd remember the memory of good times in the morning.

"Do… vampires… g-get AIDS when… they suck infected blood?" Fat Amy asked as she hugged Stan's arms close to her.

Aubrey lifted her head from slumping on the guy's shoulder and pointed a sloppy finger at the other blonde.

"You'll get a b-black eye… on your _fat_ face… if y-you… don't keep your hands off my man."

"Hey hey," Stan turned to the two girls glued to his either sides, reprimanding them. "We don't need to resort to violence."

But Fat Amy already moved her hand across him to push the other blonde away causing Aubrey Posen to slackly fall off the couch. Jesse hurriedly helped her back to her seat, but of course, he had to laugh at her while doing it.

"What's the score again?" Fat Amy asked nobody in particular.

Stan immediately had confusion painted all over his face. What score?

"It's still a tie," Beca answered with everybody giving her questioning looks. Who'd have thought she was keeping count, of all people?

"Okay, let's," Aubrey paused to accommodate her hiccup, and then turned her sharp eyes towards her rival, "settle this once and for all."

Fat Amy started rolling her sleeves up readying herself for a big bar [cat]fight.

"Do you wanna do it here or outside?"

"Dibs on Beca's knife!" Aubrey quickly yelled raising her hands up in the air victoriously as if she had already won the battle.

"R-Really, Posen?" Chloe struggled to avoid slurring herself as she throw a behave-yourself look at her best friend.

Nevertheless, Beca was already pulling out the knife from her pocket then carefully set it down on the table. The redhead smacked her hand as a form of scolding, but the bodyguard already decided that she was serving no boss for the meantime. Too amused at the situation, she simply ignored the dagger look directed at her and leaned back to the couch anticipating for her soon-to-be-favorite bloody war in history to commence.

The two blondes raced to reach out for the knife only for the both of them to fail because Stan Mitchell was quick enough to pick it up first, confiscating it.

"I don't want you two playing Hunger Games for me," he shook his head.

His admirers eagerly asked in unison, "What do you want then?"

"W-Well…" Stan's voice trailed off, taken aback at the reaction he got. "You two can play another game… a completely different one."

"What game?"

"You know," the guy started with a shrug. "A game that doesn't involve a knife, doesn't end up with some bloody faces or scratches all over your body. Something that is _safe_ and _not _violent, perhaps."

Chloe nodded her head in agreement, but Beca didn't like the idea.

"You're such a bore, Stan."

He glared at his sister, but suddenly turned to the other brunet for help when the two blondes were eagerly asking him for game mechanics once again.

"Debate!" Jesse screamed the first thing which popped into his mind. "Y-You can do a debate."

Fat Amy gave him a disappointed look along with a bored one while Aubrey put her hands on her hips as she wore the necessary sarcasm on her face.

"Of course, Jesse, you're the nerd in this group."

He rolled his eyes at the responses he got from his so-called friends.

"I like the idea," Stan encouraged, hopeful that verbal harm would be a better idea than physical violence, and subsequently, the two blondes were forced to like the idea too.

"Not all debates are about national policies or human rights," the IT expert pointed out and the struggle to listen to his drab was already evident on the others' faces. "We can choose a _fun_ topic! Like... 'what should Chloe do to get over her ex?'"

He earned glares for that.

"_Or…_ 'what kind of a creature Beca is?'"

Then, there was silence except from the club music blasting out loud in the background. Beca consumed her bottle of beer in annoyance while Stan had a smirk on his face. On the other hand, Aubrey and Fat Amy slowly exchanged looks as they started considering.

"Dibs on demon!" the blonde heiress exclaimed smacking her hands on the table.

Her rival snorted at the chosen argument.

"Demons don't exist, dumbass. I say she's a Dothraki warrior in a flawless Greek goddess' body. That would explain her being ruthless."

"Your argument is completely based on fiction! She's an evil spirit."

Beca let out an irritated huff before rising from her seat to walk away. Obviously, the two competitors were not about to be discreet or put a restrain on their words, not even in the presence of the subject of the debate. So she'd rather go to the bar and continue with good times on her own. But just as she sat on a bar stool, the bartender pointed out that a tipsy-looking redhead was heading her way.

"Someone's gonna get laid tonight, eh?" he sneered at her before the redhead could finally settle on the stool next to Beca. Unexpectedly, she stole the bottle of beer from the counter and drank it all ending with a flush and a disgusted look on her face.

"T-Thirty minutes… had p-passed," she reminded in her slurred speech.

Beca glared at the bartender when he tried to offer another alcoholic drink to the clearly vulnerable redhead.

"Come on, Beca. Y-You don't need to scare everybody off."

"Stop drinking now," the other said pulling away the empty bottle. "Game's over, and it's bad for you."

"_I_… am… a 23-year-old g-grown woman."

"Yeah, and a pretty stubborn one."

"Y-You think I'm pretty?"

Beca deliberately made a pause, turned to the redhead to examine the look on her face. Chloe stared back at her, unyielding. She looked serious enough, but she's drunk too which made everything more complicated for the brunette.

"Let's go dancing," the heiress invited which the other firmly declined. "Oh come on."

The redhead grabbed the bodyguard by the hand and dragged her towards the partying crowd. In her drunken state, Beca could have easily knocked her out or shoved her away in protest, but because it was Chloe Beale, she patiently stood in the middle of all the dancing bodies while the redhead tried to join in the fun. The very quiet cricket, not to mention a party Grinch this time, watched her intently. Chloe was dancing like crazy like everybody else, but still she was a stand out for Beca as if the rest of the world had faded out right before her very eyes. If only Chloe wasn't heartbroken. Yeah, she could laugh and dance and scream all night, but she still looked totally heartbroken. Again, fuck Tom Jacobs.

"Why aren't you dancing?" Chloe yelled out her question for the bodyguard to hear.

"I don't dance," the other yelled back.

So the redhead stopped for a moment. She moved to get closer to her company, but somebody in the crowd obliviously pushed her forward. With her poor balance due to excessive alcohol drinking, she could have ended up on the floor and be trampled by the dancing crowd. Thankfully, Beca had caught her in her arms.

Then there it was again – blue meets blue. The unfamiliar electricity was back, and the feeling of kissing each other was right around the corner. Maybe it was the alcohol, but it felt like the dance floor was closing in on them – their bodies physically in contact; eyes glued on one another; spheres of breath overlapping; hearts beating faster than usual; faces dangerously too close to back down. Chloe was about to close her eyes for the most desirable kiss when suddenly, a loud scream penetrated the entire atmosphere.

Aubrey and Fat Amy were already engaged in a cat fight, wrestling each other on the floor. So they ultimately decided to ditch the debate then. Stan hurried to lift the bigger blonde off the other before some bones could be crashed while Jesse helplessly stood at the side not knowing what to do. Chloe immediately let go from Beca's grip to rescue her best friend; the bodyguard followed closely behind her to assist her own brother. As a result, the kiss had to be put on hold.

* * *

True enough, the Australian blonde got a not-too-obvious black eye, but had Stan to attend her needs back at her room in the Phoenix quarters. Her rival, the drunk Posen heiress who lost some strands of hair during the fight, was sprawled at the back of Chloe's car peacefully asleep. On the other hand, despite of Beca's assurance that she could manage to drive them safely, Chloe insisted on waiting for the alcohol to wear off first. Hence, the Range Rover was parked solo in the area. Beca and Chloe were seated at the trunk through the cold breeze while listening to Aubrey's adorable snores.

"Fat Amy is crazy," Beca told her boss, her attempt of an indirect apology. She would say 'I'm sorry' but she was reminded that apology doesn't bring back the dead. That's what she believed in, and this redheaded monster shouldn't be changing that.

"So is Aubrey," the redhead chuckled.

The bodyguard simply nodded her head in agreement.

"I haven't thanked you yet," Chloe turned to the brunette seated on her side, her face was serious once again. "For saving my life back at the party, for being there in Miami… I haven't thanked you yet."

"It's my job to protect you."

And the young heiress chuckled once more.

"Your job… My father says it so and suddenly it's your job. Do you remember the first time we met?"

Beca let out an annoyed huff as a response. Of course, how could she forget that hullabaloo that came crashing into her Aston Martin first thing in the morning?

"You almost ran over me, yet you were the one who was so angry to death like I was a huge burden to you," Chloe smiled as she reminisced. "It was the first time that I got to look in your eyes, your dark blue eyes. And I don't know… I was supposed to be scared by your wrath, but instead, something told me that you could help me, that you could save me, and so I made you drive me home. You wouldn't tell me your name then. Literally, I didn't know anything about you, but right then and there, I already started to trust you."

And her company had transformed into a very quiet cricket again. Well, maybe it was the statement. Chloe should stop telling her about trust because it was just making her feel guilty. She shouldn't trust her, of all people.

"Exactly like that," the redhead pointed out. "You let me talked and talked, and you never bothered to respond."

Beca stared at her for a brief moment, and it could mean a lot of things actually, before turning her eyes away.

"And tonight, it feels like history has repeated itself. Back then, I was heartbroken. Tom left me like some kind of a disposable cup… and you were there to pick me up. Obviously, you don't know what to do with me, but you keep on picking me up anyway."

The brunette sighed heavily, not amused by the analogy.

"You are _not _a disposable cup."

"Then what am I?" the other questioned. "If I'm not a disposable cup, why does Tom treat me like one?"

"Tom is a _jerk_."

"Why do people treat me like a child? Why can't everybody take me seriously like I'm some kind of a joke?"

"You are _not _a joke."

"Then what am I? Tell me."

Beca turned to her abruptly, her fury burning in every vein in her body.

"You are the most beautiful person I've ever met in my entire fucking life."

And that made the redhead shut her mouth. Thank goodness, it was still dark; she could easily hide the blush growing on her cheeks.

"And it is so frustrating that you get to be so heartbroken when you don't deserve it at all," the brunette added. "I wish… I wish I could do something to fix it."

That was it. Chloe had seen _the_ opportunity, and she's going to seize it. There's no more stopping her. She was heartbroken, and they were on a break; she had all the reason to do it right at this very moment.

"Kiss me," she muttered, her hopeful eyes were suddenly directed at Beca. "I _need _you to kiss me."

Beca could only stare back at her, dumbfounded and nothing else. Chloe knew it wasn't the easiest _favor_ to ask from her. The woman never _kissed_ anybody, and maybe would _never_ kiss anybody, so it's only reasonable if ever the brunette ended up rejecting the demand. But Chloe needed her. Beca could be the only one who could repair her broken heart. So Chloe waited and waited. Who knew how much time passed after she made the statement? Beca wasn't moving nor breathing at all.

"Forget it," the redhead shook her head sadly and moved her gaze away. How stupid she was to think that Beca would simply give up something she believed in for her. How stupid she was to think that all this time the two of them had this special connection going on.

But then the brunette placed a hand on Chloe's cheek delicately pulling her face towards her. Beca stared at those piercing bright blue eyes, her favorite habit, while the redhead was inevitably drawn to those surprisingly softened dark blue orbs once again. Without warning, Beca was leaning in, the distance between their lips was getting shorter and shorter every second that the other could already breathe the same air as the brunette. Before long, Beca's lips had touched hers, and the rest of the world was already gone.

It was gentle and sweet and romantic, the kiss. It was amazing how a daunting beast was capable of it, really. Like Chloe Beale was just too precious for her that she had to be careful, scared to death that she might break her apart. So for a first timer, Beca Branson was definitely a good kisser.

"What do you feel?" Chloe quietly asked when the kiss unfortunately had to stop. She had to ask because for her, it was magic. She felt complete and alive once again. It's as if it was all she'd been waiting for her whole life, and so she needed to know if Beca felt the same.

Beca pulled her hand away from the angelic face and looked away.

"Nothing," she lied in response.

And that was it. One word, and Chloe's heart was shattering to thousand pieces all over again. And that's when she realized that all this time, it was Beca. No, Tom did not break her heart. In fact, he made it too strong that she endured everything he did. But it was Beca who made her feel vulnerable and fragile. Beca was the heartbreaker. Chloe was heartbroken not because Tom cheated on her, it was highly expected anyway. But she was heartbroken because Beca Branson would never feel the same way for her. And so she should be running away then, get away and never look back, but only, she found herself falling even more in love.

* * *

_You can all kiss Tom goodbye now :) But we can all smack Beca for breaking Chloe's heart :(_

_Music: (1) For Emma, Forever Ago (full album) - Bon Iver (2) Blurred Lines (club remix) - Robin Thicke_

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Pitch Perfect.


	13. Bulletproof

_For some reason, the number of views and followers quickly increased by the last chapter, and I couldn't be happier. Thanks, everybody. I guess that 'nothing' was something after all, you know. _

**_wrrrby, avidreader, madness2013, Guest, writing is love, RobOverstreet: _**_I do believe h__eartbreaks are necessary._

**_ThirteenStrikes:_**_ She does though._

**_BeChloeFan01:_**_ Finally! Somebody who noticed the Phil and Clarence part. I knew it would be overlooked in this chapter, but well, I needed to include it there. I wanted to turn the tables around. I wanted to tell people that maybe Phil wasn't that bad at all, and maybe Clarence wasn't that good after all. And I wanted you, guys, to get at least a small glimpse of how The Society works. And oh, Beca has her reasons._

**_mrebel1992:_**_ Truth be, I considered them doing the first kiss back at the club with Feel So Close by Calvin Harris on the background, but then yeah, it was more magical as they did it seated at the back of Chloe's car. Just the two of them._

**_dww, StalkerNinja94:_**_ Thanks! :)_

**_PitchPerfectLover:_**_ For the record, there was no hidden communication device recording everything. They were on a break. Jesse and Fat Amy decided to do a fake recording for the evening, remember? And Beca's not aware that Stacie has the mission. So yeah, now it's more painful realizing that because Beca could have really said anything she wanted._

**_MysticFalls94, kassdunn, oftherose13:_**_ She's almost perfect, I know. :)_

**_LaRevolte:_**_ I'm sorry I've been killing you since Poison & Wine._

**_Monkeyfuncky:_**_ She should have..._

**_cxcxcx386: _**_I enjoyed writing all the Fat Amy and Aubrey bickering parts just as much as I enjoyed putting in the angst. I guess you're in for a rollercoaster ride._

**_lauwer, atty jannie: _**_I can't tell when Beca could make it up to all of us._

* * *

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: **Bulletproof**

Morning came after, and it was just as unpleasant as the mornings that came before that. Chloe Beale woke up with a throbbing head, a positive sign of a terrible hangover. She put a hand to massage her temple as she helped herself sit up on the bed then rubbed her eyes open to begin the new day. As always, her bright blue eyes met with the pale and short woman first thing in the morning.

"Good morning," the bodyguard greeted in such monotonous voice, but her boss knew she was trying hard enough to make it as enthusiastic as possible as they had agreed upon on her first day on duty.

Beca waited for a comment – an annoying remark to be exact – from her Australian partner in crime through the hidden earpiece, but nothing came. Fat Amy had clearly drifted back to sleep to nurse her own hangover as she had warned the moment she gained consciousness. Aubrey Posen was probably on the same shoe. This is definitely the picture of the Great Morning After – the aftermath of a night of good times.

"Good morning," Chloe greeted back in a fatigued voice, a small smile plastered on her lips. It was a rather unusual sight since they came back from Miami. But then, on this day, she swore that there should be no more room for a brokenhearted. Perhaps, only a secret lovesick fool instead as she looked into those dark blue orbs longingly.

"Here," the brunette walked over to the bedside table to offer Advil along with a glass of water she had prepared herself especially for her boss. "It's for your headache."

"Thanks."

Chloe immediately took the medicine with Beca's concerned assistance. Before long, the young heiress found herself quietly staring at the same pale and short woman once again – studying her magnificent facial features, those facial features she would gladly trace with her fingertips any time of the day. It's funny how all this time Beca Branson had remained to be an unresolved mystery to her. How can someone be familiar and unfamiliar simultaneously? And these things that she would do for the redhead; how can such destroyer be her safe haven all at the same time?

"Something wrong?" Beca asked innocently, because she really had no idea why, when the pair of bright blue eyes was staring too long than necessary.

_Something wrong?_ The redhead could have easily nodded her head in assertion. Yes, something was definitely wrong, and it was the fact that the daunting beast was acting all too insensible and oblivious of Chloe's feelings. Had she forgotten about the kiss? Was she really that insensitive that she could just act like she didn't plant a sweet and gentle and romantic kiss on her lips only a few hours ago? Well, Chloe couldn't blame Beca. After all, the brunette did say 'nothing' and maybe that was all there really was. _Nothing._ So instead, the young heiress shook her head in response.

"Nothing," she furthermore answered. Perhaps, Beca wasn't the only one who was keen to lie about things with its aid.

Beca rose from the bed to go open the balcony door inviting the fresh air and some sunlight into the room.

"You're not a good liar. I thought I should let you know."

Chloe got out of the bed and proceeded to help the bodyguard tie up the curtains to let more amount of sunlight in because the atmosphere in the room was starting to be rather suffocating.

"So you think I'm lying," she supposed as a matter of fact. "Why would you think that? Tell me, is there something wrong that I should have answered you otherwise?"

The brunette sighed. There she was – Chloe was giving herself away. If she wanted to lie, at least she shouldn't be talking in such a way that she was never accustomed to.

"Seriously, Beca, tell me," the young heiress demanded when she received no additional answer from her company. "Is there something wrong?"

"That's not the way you talk."

Chloe chuckled at the observation as she turned around to face the bodyguard. Was she amused or offended in some odd way, Beca wasn't sure.

"I never thought you'd notice the way I talk. No, not even with a 24/7-hour duty; I never thought you'd actually care about _anything_ about me. I thought you're simply there trying to do your one hell of a job_._"

Suddenly, Chloe's words were starting to become a twisted puzzle for the quiet cricket.

"I guess I was wrong then because you actually _know _the way I talk."

Beca stared at her for a moment trying to make out any sense from that unfamiliar facial expression displayed on such angelic face, but only to fail.

"I don't really know how to feel about that," the redhead shook her head slowly. "Should I be happy that you are able to notice these little things about me? Or should I be sad that maybe it was just part of your job description after all?"

The quiet cricket, with furrowed eyebrows, tilted her head to the side in confusion. Too many riddles in the morning. Too many questions that didn't make so much sense from a woman with a hangover.

"Okay, fine. I lied," Chloe briefly bit her lower lip as she ultimately confessed. "But that's the first and last time I'm going to lie to you. I promise."

Guilt came knocking on the door again; Beca had already lied to her a hundred times. Here's the girl who was feeling so bad to lie to her once for the sake of it.

"Now tell me the truth," the redhead begged. "Tell me in all honesty, Beca… are you really so much of a horrible _monster_ that you can't feel anything? Because last time I checked, even monsters do feel something."

Beca finally understood. She knew where this conversation was coming from and where it was going. And she could only watch the despair on her favorite pair of eyes until she couldn't hold up the gaze any longer. She had to look away before she could eventually end up getting out of character again.

"Maybe I'm better off a walking _dead_. That's what they perceive me too anyway. Now… have I sufficed the standards you were looking for? Do I seem to suit the terms and definitions and descriptions you need?"

And then the pain was beginning to sting a little more. The truth that the brunette really had felt nothing was becoming more and more concrete to the young heiress. Chloe, nevertheless, would try to squeeze something out of this dead person. Come on, even zombies and vampires feel something. Even zombies and vampires do fall in love. They fall in love even with the most unexpected person and even in the most forbidden kind. So maybe Beca Branson could do that too. No matter how little the size of that chance could be, maybe she could fall in love too.

"I'm not what you think I am," the bodyguard told her as if she had just read Chloe's thoughts. "And I'm not what you think I can be."

Okay, so maybe zombies and vampires do fall in love. The problem there, as Chloe had missed, was they were all just elements of fiction love stories. Some kind of a make believe. But Beca Branson here was real, and quite real enough not to feel anything.

"I told you that you're much more than this bulletproof character," the redhead muttered as she took a few steps forward moving closer to the brunette. "That's what I _believe_ in. Whether you want to admit it or not, you let me in, Beca. But I guess you've just pushed me out again."

_Avoid eye contact, _Beca thought._ Just avoid eye contact._

"I just want you to know…" Beca's heart stopped for a moment when Chloe raised her hand supposedly to touch her bodyguard's face. However, when it was just a few inches away, she put it back to her sides, and Beca could finally breathe again. "I'm right here… _waiting_… until you decide you're ready to feel something."

"Nothing," the brunette found the courage to insist, and the pain was stinging even more. There's that _fucking_ word again. "I feel nothing."

"But when we ki-"

"You have to go get yourself ready now," Beca quickly cut her off. No, she couldn't let Chloe finish that sentence, not with the presence of the hidden communication device recording everything, or they would be in a lot more trouble than this emotional rollercoaster ride they're caught into. "Breakfast will be ready in a few. Kimmy Jin and Gail are already at the garden; they'll be joining you this morning."

A small nod was the redhead's only response.

Fuck. Beca looked into those bright blue eyes and sighed. Any moment, she would be getting out of character – letting all these feelings in – once again. Well, she knew she'd been messing up since that fateful kiss. Of course, she's not that numb and insensitive. She knew she was slowly breaking this woman apart, and she couldn't help it. She got no other choice. There was a code she had to obey, and that should make Chloe Beale her enemy… _supposed _to be. However, she'd been lying to her all this time, and there was really no doubt that the kiss felt just as magical for her, so Beca Branson definitely owed an explanation to Chloe. She owed her at least one good explanation, and hopefully it would be just enough to keep the frown away from that angelic face because it was already killing the daunting beast to have to endure yet another misery on Chloe's entire being. Beca did say that it was so frustrating to see Chloe so heartbroken, and she meant every word of it. More so, it was beyond frustrating when she knew that it was her who was making the redheaded monster feel that way.

So Beca leaned forward, tiptoed until her lips were barely touching the redhead's right ear, and said in that same kind of whispered murmur as it was back at the Posen party, "We'll find another time to talk. I promise."

She then moved back to witness the contended look on Chloe's face, finally. For now, that was enough. One promise meant to be fulfilled was enough to keep them both sane for the meantime.

* * *

Stan entered the Communication Center and immediately rolled his eyes and shook his head at the sight of Fat Amy and Jesse seated side by side, both completely engrossed into their respective computer screens and wireless headsets.

"I brought dinner," he announced as enticing as possible. However, only Fat Amy turned around to acknowledge his arrival. "Here's a box of pizza all for yourself, my dear blonde bombshell."

The tall young man raised the box for the blonde to see before settling everything down on the nearby table; his trademark charming smirk seated upon his lips was enough to completely distract Fat Amy from her work much to his delight. He later on grabbed a chair, placed it strategically in between his pals, and then slumped onto it; the Australian blonde automatically linking their arms together.

"Hey," he nodded his head towards the other brunet regardless of the fact that Jesse was determined to ignore him. "What are you doing?"

Jesse Swanson did not care to give any response, so Stan Mitchell let out a deep sigh.

"Why are you working your ass off, Swanson?"

Still, the guy went on with typing on the keyboard – some codes and necessary commands that the other didn't understand. Computer was never his weapon in the first place.

"Man, you got to breathe, you know."

"I've got a mission to accomplish."

Stan rolled his eyes once again then stood back up to prepare dinner; Fat Amy hurriedly following him towards the table.

"Phil's not even here," the young Mitchell pointed out; another attempt at pulling his friend into a cloud of procrastination with the rest of the crew. Nevertheless, the preoccupied IT expert did not bother to stop from working, not even slow down his ongoing pace. "Come on, Jesse, you have all the time to work when Phil gets back. For now, it's time for all of us to mess up. That's a _rule_."

"I like that rule," Fat Amy paused from enjoying her pizza to make the necessary comment. Must always be on the same side as Stan to win his heart.

"A rule you made up just now," Jesse casually argued, not caring to turn around to give a look at his teammates. It would have been a waste of time. "Not to mention – well, no offense – it is _quite_ stupid and immature, Mitchell. We'll probably end up in the Green Room with our heads regretfully bowed down when your father gets back if we actually follow your rule."

Stan pursed his lips together realizing the truth which lies on the hypothesis. It wouldn't be a good situation to be in. Not ever.

"What's your mission anyway, huh?" he questioned instead. He thought a few more questions – distractions – could do the trick.

"It's about the treasure," Jesse answered vaguely.

"Of course, it's about the treasure. It's always been about the goddamn treasure."

It wasn't expected to be this fast, but finally, Jesse quit with his typing duty and swiftly turned his seat around so he could face his two companions. He had a knowing look on his face along with folded arms upon his chest.

"Do you know why Phil suddenly flew to Moscow and brought with him some of the best men of The Society?"

"Best men," Stan snorted. "I'm right here."

One brief pause, and suddenly, his friends were bound to share a laugh at the statement he confidently made. Beca Mitchell could be the head of the 'best men', but her brother here was another story. He's a good fighter, but just not good enough to belong into this category.

"They're on a treasure hunt," Jesse announced when the laughter had subsided.

"_Everybody _has been on a hunt since Clarence Beale stole the treasure and hid it somewhere in this gigantic planet," Stan made some alterations on the original statement. "I hate to break it to you, but there's really nothing special about the news, man."

"Clarence Beale and his men are also on the hunt."

Stan and even Fat Amy with a slice of pizza about to enter her mouth froze in place. That couldn't be right. Why would Beale go chasing after a treasure he himself hid away?

"What?" was all the blonde could utter as she carefully put the slice back into the box for a temporary delay.

So Jesse nodded his head in verification, "Yes. Beale himself _might _not know where the treasure is."

"If he doesn't then who knows?" Stan asked, a little confused by the revelation. "Why has Phil been sending us to keep an eye on the man if he knows nothing after all?"

"Who said about 'nothing'? Beale knows something, that's certain. Out of all places on earth, why do you think he'd run to Moscow in particular? There are thousands of cities in the world to choose from, so how can he be so sure that he should be in Moscow and not someplace else?"

"If it's not Beale, who hid the treasure then?"

Suddenly, Jesse let out a sigh and lowered his gaze briefly, his hands slowly falling down to his sides, vulnerable. He didn't look confident or proud anymore.

"Benji. It has to be Benji."

"But he's dead," Fat Amy whispered as if it was some kind of an unspeakable truth.

And the young man slowly nodded his head. The picture of him pointing the gun towards his bloody best friend was flashing in his mind again. Yeah, it's going to take forever to erase the memory.

"Are you saying Benji hid the treasure in Moscow?" Stan inquired.

"It's _possible_. I don't know," the other brunet admitted. "But I know he took a leave and went to Moscow before Beale was kidnapped. He told me he's going to meet somebody there."

"So?" the young Mitchell shrugged his shoulders. "Where exactly do you come into the picture?"

"One of these days, Clarence Beale is set to meet the man. Now if Benji had gave the man _something_ when they met up a few months ago, it has to come either in an actual form or, you know how Benji was, computer-generated codes."

"Your mission is to hack Beale's computer so when the man gives him whatever information he has Phil will automatically have an access to it," Fat Amy voiced out the plan in realization. "If it's in its actual form, that's when the 'best men' come into place."

And Jesse Swanson nodded his head proudly; he was going to be a significant player in this treasure-hunting game obviously.

"And if my suppositions are correct, we're getting closer and closer to where the treasure is. Guys, this could be it. This could be the end of this entire mission. We're about to find the treasure."

After that sentence, he had a determined and hopeful look on his face. This dreaded mission will be finally over. But while he and Fat Amy went on to start their pre-victory celebration, Stan Mitchell silently sat on his seat and resumed with eating his meal, confined within the shadow of his own thoughts. He knew better. The hunt will never be over, not until Phil Mitchell stands along with The Secret Society. There will always be more treasure to hunt, more people to kill, and more missions to be accomplished.

* * *

Barden Home was livelier (and more pristine) than its usual appearance. The lone hall in the building had a dozen of round dining tables neatly arranged into place for everybody, decorated with some flowers, and a podium was set right at one side of the stage. Moreover, all of the orphans were required to take good bath and to dress up appropriately for the special occasion. The famous daughter of Clarence Beale, one of the richest people in America, was coming for a visit. Everything should be prepped up. Everything should be presentable enough to make Chloe Beale as comfortable as possible during her visit.

While the rest of the security group were posted everywhere else, Beca "The Bodyguard" Branson stood patiently at the back where she could see the area in its entirety while her boss was too busy being praised by the Director for Special Events for her apparently 'charitable heart'. 'Charitable heart', in history, had seemed to be the term, collectively, for paying a visit, donating some of your father's cash (or most probably a check), bringing in some books and toys for the poor little children, and constantly flashing a sweet friendly smile to everybody. At first instance, this might sound like a mocking kind of a charitable heart, but Chloe's ways were as genuine as they could be. In some odd ways, philosophical ways may be (though the money was just as tangible), Chloe Beale was so good at helping people, and Beca could simply watch quietly in awe. The redheaded monster didn't even have to kill anybody or steal from anybody. She was just… _helping_ – gladly pouring life back to the dying. This element of Chloe Beale didn't really help Beca Branson with her utmost goal since that day she was named a very quiet cricket: to shove the stupid loving feeling back to where they should be away from her entire being.

_"How long should we listen to this boring speech? Can we just have Chloe do the speaking again? She's more fun than this crap."_

The brunette could practically hear her partner's yawn and feel the boredom right from the other end of the line. Barden's Director for Special Events had been going on and on about how grateful they were for the Beale's benevolent generosity that even the poor little children who were settled on their respective seats were about to doze off in ennui. Times like this, one would wish they would rather be in the Green Room and be scolded by Phil Mitchell himself. At least you get to feel alive and alert before he awards you with quick and easy death, unlike this one - long and agonizing.

_"Ugh, kill me already!"_

Fat Amy pleaded, and her partner in crime responded with an irritated grunt.

"Now, in behalf of the entire Barden Home family, I present this plaque of recognition to Miss Chloe Maeve Beale."

Beca required herself to initiate the clapping when the rest was pretending to be still listening. Paul quickly followed, and soon, the room erupted in applause. Even Fat Amy was rocking some thunderous claps on her own. It wasn't because it was a nice appreciation speech, but certainly because the Director had_ finally_ stopped blabbing on the microphone.

_"Beca, please put a gag on him already. For the love of god."_

Honestly, the bodyguard would love that as well, but figured there was no need for it anymore when, after some photo-op, the Director had escorted her boss down the stage to the table set right in front to join the other important people of Barden. Soon enough, lunch was served, eating commenced, and so did Beca's watch. She glued her eyes on her favorite redhead and followed her everywhere she went, never wanted to let her out of sight. If only Chloe would keep still. Instead, she would jump from one table to another checking whether everybody had enough food, spreading her charm all over the room as she amused the kids along the way. Clearly, everybody was in love with her. _Everybody._

"While everyone enjoys their meal," the Director was back on the microphone again, and Beca could already sense that Fat Amy was about to roll her eyes, "some of the kids would like to sing a song for all and most especially for our lovely guest."

_"Just get him out of the microphone."_

And a group of female kids, more or less a dozen, climbed up the stage and stood at their respective places. The one with an acoustic guitar had a chair for herself while another took on the microphone presumably to sing the lead. The Director presented them again to the audience, this time as the Barden Bellas, and Chloe immediately clapped her hands together in enthusiasm and encouragement; the rest happily followed her lead.

_(Ho) I been trying to do it right  
__(Hey) I been living a lonely life  
__(Ho) I been sleepin' here instead  
__(Hey) I been sleepin' in my bed  
__(Ho) sleepin' in my bed (Hey ho)_

The audience offered another applause along with Fat Amy's positive remark.

"_Finally, something worth listening."_

_(Ho) So show me family  
__(Hey) All the blood that I will bleed  
__(Ho) I don't know where I belong  
__(Hey) I don't know where I went wrong  
__(Ho) I can write a song (Hey)_

But Beca was left on her own little world. It wasn't that she wasn't enjoying the performance, but she'd rather watch the incredibly blissful look on Chloe's face without worrying that somebody would catch her. While everybody was busy being entertained, it was indeed a perfect moment – one perfect stolen moment to take a break for a little while, and just immerse into the loving feeling that just won't go away.

_I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweetheart  
__I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweetheart_

As if a ninja just sneaked into the room and whispered the information into her ears, Chloe felt a pair of eyes staring directly at her. She paused for a moment then turned to meet those eyes, those dark blue eyes. And there she was staring back at her safe haven once again.

_(Ho) I don't think you're right for him  
__(Hey) Think of what it might have been if we  
__(Ho) Took a bus to Chinatown  
__(Hey) I'd be standin' on canal (Ho) and Bowery (Hey)  
__(Ho) She'd be standin' next to me (Hey)_

Everybody was listening attentively to the Barden Bellas; even Fat Amy was happily singing along. So Beca wondered if people would actually notice if ever she walks right to where Chloe is? Ten? Twelve? Fourteen fast steps of her short legs would probably take her there. If she decides to pull her close and steal another one sweet kiss, would the rest of the crowd pay them any attention?

_I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweetheart  
__I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweetheart_

Something told the brunette that in most probability the young heiress had the same thoughts as hers. So should they do it then? Meet halfway, and do the kiss. Just one single kiss. The song was almost over and that meant they had to decide quick.

_Love, we need it now  
__Let's hope for some  
__'Cause oh, we're bleedin' out_

Love. If it wasn't, then everything else in the universe would be a big fat lie. No words of endearment, no words to confirm, but not even one word in the form of 'nothing' could prove its non-existence because whether they like it or not, it's love. It's already love, and it's not going away any time soon.

_I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweetheart  
__I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweetheart_

The song ended signifying the end of what could have been two minutes of a perfect stolen moment. But since it was already one lost opportunity, Beca Branson put on her armor once again by looking away. So Chloe Beale had to do the same.

"Psst."

The bodyguard heard a pissing sound and felt a hand tugging her pants all at once. With this kind of nonthreatening environment where there were only children and boring people everywhere, instinct suggested to ignore the sudden discomfort. However, the tugging continued compelling the brunette to lower her gaze and find out what had been bugging her.

"Hey you," a little boy with a shaggy jet-black hair like a cute little Jonah Bobo was staring up at her scornful eyes as he spoke.

"_Is that a kid? It sounds like a kid."_

This kid was not worth of her time, she decided, so the brunette looked straight ahead again ignoring the presence of the adorable little boy. His face contorted in ferocity, not happy at all by Beca's choice of action.

"Psst," he repeated to call her attention once again. This time, he was more eager and the pissing sound was longer.

"_Please tell me you're not ignoring the kid."_

Beca let out a huff, and Fat Amy knew the meaning of it. She was _intentionally_ trying to ignore the kid. So when the bodyguard didn't give any more response, the kid went on tugging her pants until she just couldn't take it anymore.

"What the fuck do you want?" she quietly hissed at the little boy.

"_Oh my god, Beca, you did not just use the F word on him!"_

"You said a bad word," he pointed out the obvious in his slow, lethargic, adorable, cute little voice. "I'm a kid. I'm not supposed to hear it or say it."

"Well, you're not going to be a kid forever, dickhead. You're going to hear it a lot, say it a lot, _do_ it a lot when you grow up, so you better _fucking_ get used to it now."

"_You are a terrible person! Did anyone ever tell you that?"_

The little boy looked beyond surprised, his eyes and mouth were left wide open. Worse for Beca though, he wasn't walking away.

"What the fuck do you want from me?" she had to ask again.

"_God, just stop it!"_

In response, the kid looked up to her with angry eyes and motioned her to lower her body down which she eventually did. Just get this over with.

"Wait here," he whispered into her ear with the right element of confidentiality before running away leaving Beca knelt down on the floor to wait as instructed. A few more seconds, and he was back with a full pitcher of orange juice he was struggling to hold with both hands. "You must be thirsty."

"_See? He's a sweet little boy."_

Without warning, the sweet little boy raised the pitcher and poured all its contents over Beca's head; the orange juice soaked her hair and dripped down her face then to her neck, her black leather jacket, and who knew where else. Beca Mitchell spent her entire childhood loathing the kids in school and the kids in the neighborhood for making fun of her all the time. She'd always hated a list of children for it, but this little rat right here just made it on top of her list especially with that proud evil smug on his face.

_Zap._

Beca and the little boy rapidly jumped away at the zapping sound of an electric shock and a momentary burst of electric spark just below the brunette's face. Fat Amy's voice supposedly blasting through the earpiece was not heard. The bodyguard immediately looked down to check the tiny microphone attached to her jacket, and then threw a death glare at the kid. Apparently, the hidden communication device was not made to withstand a pitcher of orange juice. Add that to Beca's list of reasons why she should just strangle this little rat to death.

* * *

It was past lunch time when Jesse finally decided it was time to take some decent sleep. After all, he'd been working too hard to prepare for the most anticipated mission already. He had finally hacked the system, and everything else was ready. All that was missing was a go signal from Moscow. For the meantime, the only choice was to wait, and he could definitely do that while taking some good rest. He entered his room and sloppily closed the door behind him massaging the back of his head to give it ease. In the process, he missed the presence of the tall young man quietly leaning his back on the wall, waiting for him since the daylight came.

"Overtime?"

The IT expert alarmingly turned around following the source of the voice that wasn't his own.

"Stan," he breathed in relief upon recognition of his surprise guest. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

The other casually shrugged his shoulder, "I need to talk to you."

"About what?"

"I'm just curious... about which side you're really on, Swanson."

In an instant, Jesse became fidgety finding discomfort in the issue. He deliberately swallowed the growing lump down his throat then croaked, "Fidelity to The Society."

"Bullshit," Stan scoffed.

"I'm working my ass off for The Society," the other brunet furthermore insisted as he tried not to sound too defensive. "Phil gives me missions, and I try my very best to accomplish them all."

"So what about Benji then? What about your best friend? How can you work for the man who made you kill your best friend?"

"There is a code… Fidelity to The Society."

"It's just the two of us here, Jesse."

"Fidelity!"

And Stan made a pause, disappointed. For a brief moment, he watched this other Phoenix struggle to pretend like he wasn't so eager to quiver in fear, afraid to be exposed.

"What happened to not letting his death go in vain, Jesse?"

"It's still on," Jesse quietly answered.

"So why are you doing this?" questioned the young Mitchell. "Why are you helping Phil find the treasure Benji himself stole and hid away from The Secret Society? I don't know what your plan is, but I know he didn't want us to find it."

Jesse let out a deep sigh. There's no way of getting out of this trap anymore.

"Sooner or later, Phil will find the treasure. I don't know what it is, but Benji surely had a reason for stealing it away from The Society. For now, Phil seems to have the best intention - put it to use for the benefit of the needy - but certainly, there's a catch in there. Otherwise, we still have Clarence Beale on this side."

"You're going to steal it afterwards," Stan supposed.

The IT expert shrugged his shoulders, uncertain.

"I can't fight until I figure out what I'm fighting against to."

Then, there was a necessary silence in the atmosphere. Jesse Swanson knew he was a professed potential traitor here, so he waited and waited until a verdict could be made, a verdict he had long known to be. In contrary though, Stan Mitchell simply nodded his head in understanding and turned towards the door.

"You're supposed to kill me," the shorter man hurried to tell his guest. "Turn me in at least."

"I only kill the 'bad ones'. And you're my friend."

"I'm about to betray your father."

Stan chuckled briefly at the argument.

"He's never been a father to me anyway."

"But The Society."

"I told you I'm not sworn to the code."

"So now what?"

The young Mitchell sighed at the inquiry and finally decided to turn around to face his friend, a reassuring smile was fixed on his lips.

"From now on, we are sworn to a new code, and that is to protect each other - me, and you, and Beca, and Fat Amy. I know it's no Secret Society, but it's friendship… The four of us could be a… I don't know, a family. Understand?"

For a moment, Jesse didn't make any reaction. What they were doing, talking, planning about was an act of treason, and far too dangerous if it could ever reach somebody else's ear. Death could be waiting for them for it. But even so, the young man eventually put on a smile and nodded his head in agreement. He wasn't alone on this side of the game after all. That's what mattered.

* * *

_I'll ask Stan to deliver a new set of device. Jesse cannot know about this, or we're both dead. Just stay put for the meantime. I'm going to create a fake recording, and that would be our little secret._

Beca read a text message from her partner in crime before shoving her iPhone back to her pocket. Consequently, she returned another death glare to the little boy, her new nemesis, seated right across her at the Chief Directress' office lounge. And the fact that Chloe was bent down before him trying to cheer him up with her hands upon his lap only intensified the brunette's hatred for the tiny evil creature.

"Miss Beale?" the Director for Special Events called out from the door. "Please do come in."

Chloe nodded her head along with her usual friendly smile. She stood up and extended a hand towards the kid which he excitedly took then jumped off his seat as well. The redhead threw a look at Beca before proceeding into the office with the tiny evil creature. How come he got to be treated like some kind of a helpless victim when she was the one who bathed with a full pitcher of orange juice? It was so fucking unfair! Nevertheless, the bodyguard reluctantly followed them into the office.

"Welcome to Barden, Miss Beale," the Chief Directress greeted as she shook the redhead's hand. "I'm sorry I had to miss the first half of the festivities. There was an urgent matter I had to attend to. But nonetheless, we are indeed very grateful for your visit. I heard the children truly enjoy your presence."

Beca suddenly froze into place. That voice and that face, she knew them too well. That dark brown locks, a pair of eyes with the same shade of dark blue, that thin lips curved into a smile – they were exactly how they looked like in her dreams, those dreams that had been haunting her all these years. No, it just couldn't be.

"Please call me 'Chloe', and I can't believe I've only known your institution recently," Chloe answered honestly and oblivious of what was happening. "The kids are amazing, and it's certainly my pleasure to be here…"

Her voice trailed off. She didn't know her name.

"Veronica," the Chief Directress supplied. "Veronica Grant. But please do call me 'Ronie'."

It's her. It's really her. She didn't even make the effort of changing her name.

"And I heard we have a little fuss here," Veronica Grant turned to the little boy. "I'm sure little Maverick didn't mean what he did. What do you say, Maverick?"

Maverick, so that's his name, looked down towards his tiny pair of shoes to avoid those eyes and then spoke quietly, "I'm sorry."

This should have been the part where Beca should have answered 'apology doesn't bring back the dead' but was too stunned to move or utter something.

"No," Chloe came to his rescue. "He's just a kid. My bodyguard probably did something to provoke him, but I'm sure it won't happen again, Ronie. Is that right, Beca?"

Chloe turned to her bodyguard with a coercive look. However, Beca wasn't even listening anymore. She was just staring. Her heart suddenly stopped and her breath caught up down her throat when Veronica Grant ultimately directed her eyes towards her. It suddenly felt like looking right through a ghost. Well, this woman should be a ghost except that, surprisingly, she seemed like she wasn't.

"She has this bulletproof character she thinks she has to maintain," the young heiress spoke again when the brunette rudely didn't bother to give any response as usual. "But cute little Maverick here just proved that she's not waterproof though. Such a brave little warrior."

The redhead winked at the little boy who let out a chuckle along with a blush at the compliment and complete adoration from a pretty lady.

"It's alright," Ronie answered as she kept a blank stare on her daughter who still couldn't move on from her shock. "I understand. I'm some kind of a bulletproof, too, myself."

Beca stared at the extended hand waiting to be shook. Thanks god, Chloe nudged her, and so forced to hold it. Skin to skin. It was then that she realized that Veronica Grant was indeed live. Her mother was quite alive, and she was holding her warm hand again since that night Beca had supposedly shot her to death.

* * *

_Song: Ho Hey (The Lumineers cover) - Lennon and Maisy Stella_

_Okay, I'm not really sure if orphanages still exist in the US because I think what they have now are RTCs or Group Homes, and I don't really know how they operate. But this is fiction so if you could just bear with me please. And oh, isn't Maverick adorable? :)_

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Pitch Perfect.


	14. Deceiver

_We have reached 200 reviews, guys. Cool! If you don't mind, let's keep them coming, shall we? :)_

**_PitchPerfectLover: _**_Stacie will be back soon. Don't worry._

**_Kwtwix:_**_ Well, dead people coming back to life is a normal thing when it comes to soaps. LOL. I want this to be somehow more realistic than that though._

**_madness2013:_**_ Thanks! :)_

**_BeChloeFan01:_**_ I also hate it when I do that because it only means I'll have to rack my brain in writing the next chapter. Music usually helps me get by, so that should be a good sign for you._

**_wrrrby, avidreader, all Guests, apple-jacs, itsmefiebs, IrynSue:_**_ Reviews like this flatter me but give me lots of pressure at the same time. But thank you so much! :)_

**_KBY:_**_ I WISH I'm basing this on something, it could have been a lot easier to write. I never thought this story would actually work because I just had no direction at first. I had no idea about crimes, cars, sex, high technology, etc. I heard Stolen playing on the radio one time and suddenly, I just wanted to write this. Thanks for the lovely review, by the way. I never intended this to be published outside fanfiction though. I mean, all these efforts only rooted out of my BeChloe feels._

**_airdr12:_**_ Proud Pinoy!_

**_O, Maggie:_**_ Trying my best to update as soon as I can._

**_cxcxcx386:_**_ I know most of the time Jesse and Beca would disagree on everything, but right now they're pretty much on the same boat - torn between obeying the code and protecting the people they care about. And I've never thought Beca's mom would be alive either (because I find it hard to write a story with so many characters)... until I made__ a last minute crazy decision._

**_mrebel1992:_**_ Really? Cool! I wish somebody else's writing this just so I get to know the feeling, too. LOL. I'd entertain some questions so long as we don't spoil some major details (which I probably haven't decided yet anyway)._

**_MysticFalls94: _**_I don't know what your questions are, but hopefully, I'd be able to answer them in the coming chapters. :)_

_I was supposed to name this chapter 'Liar', but I think 'Deceiver' would be more suitable. Anyway, it's kind of a long chapter with only three parts. I hope you enjoy reading..._

* * *

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: **Deceiver**

Paul and the rest of the men in black suit assisted their redheaded lady boss in facilitating a series of games for the children while her personal bodyguard stood at a corner all by herself. Fine, she bathed with a full pitcher of orange juice so everybody should be mandated to leave her alone and just let her be whatever she needed to be. Adorable little Maverick, on the other hand, bravely marched his way towards his old nemesis and stood right next to her. Beca threw him a death glare, exactly like the one he offered her as well – some kind of a mutual understanding it certainly was. She took a deep breath as she desperately stretched the length of her incredibly short patience then folded her arms over her chest. Coincidentally, not that he was purposely trying to mock her, Maverick did the exact same thing at the exact same time. They both exchanged disgusted looks at how they seemed too alike as if one was a shadow cast by the other. The brunette immediately dropped her hands to her sides, balled her fists, and gritted her teeth to contain the burning anger within.

"Hey, I said I am sorry."

Maverick was looking up at the horrible monster, his voice was soft and his eyes appeared winsome without even meaning to. Still, Beca Branson had found some stupid reason to disregard his undeniable cuteness.

"Apology doesn't bring back the dead," she coldly replied.

He paused for a considerable time trying to process what the sentence meant. But nope, it didn't make any sense to the little kid, so he resorted back to his old trick and started tugging Beca's pants once again.

"Becky," he called out innocently in a plea.

"My… name… is… _Beca_," she firmly stated. Of course, every word was equipped with an essential amount of rage. "And quit bugging me, dickhead."

"Hey!" complained the little boy. "I can fetch another pitcher if you want. Orange? Grape? Milk? Your choice."

"Play another trick on me, and I'll punch you so hard right on your cheek all of your teeth will surely fall off from your gums."

"You called me-" he stopped himself immediately when he realized he wasn't supposed to say it. "…that _word_ you've been calling me!"

"That's because you are a _dickhead_."

The brunette waited, but no counterattack came from the tiny evil creature. Instead, some sniffing sound reached her hearing sense. Beca shifted her eyes to look at him and saw some tears already threatening to leave his puppy dog eyes any minute. She didn't care though.

"What? You're going to cry now?" she interrogated, and then scoffed when his lips started to quiver. "I called you a dickhead and so you cry? Is that how it is, _'brave little warrior'_?"

Although she wasn't entirely listening then, the compliment quite stayed in her sub-consciousness to be remembered. Okay, so Beca had not gotten over the fact that Chloe was clearly smitten by this little rat yet, and it didn't help at all when the poor kid responded by putting on a courageous scowl on his face.

"Oh so that's your thing, some sort of a super weapon, huh? You pour liquid over people's heads, and if that doesn't work out, you start crying. Is that all you can do? Yeah… how nice."

"I hate you," he mumbled.

"And now I'm _trembling_," she told him annoyingly sarcastic. "Trembling in so much fear because some tiny _dickhead_ hates me."

Little Maverick pulled his scowling face away and folded his arms together once again.

"Just wait and see," he threatened, but failed to shake Beca's walls anyway. "I'm going to grow taller than you'll ever be it would be really easy to stomp on you with a single foot."

She hated people who made fun of her height by the way.

"Just make sure I haven't tossed you into a shark-infested water yet by then. I'm sure that's more realistic and more painful for you. More fun for me though."

The kid bit his lower lip to fight the tears from slipping down, determined to show the horrible monster that he was tough and not as weak as she thought he was. The silence that followed, Beca had greatly appreciated. Consequently, it had been decided that she would never speak to this tiny evil creature ever again.

"You asked what I wanted," he muttered, from out of the blue, bravely looking up to the beast once more. "And I never got the chance to tell you."

Beca didn't respond, not even look. No more speaking, remember? She was standing at the corner just all by herself and nobody else.

"I thought we could be friends," finally confessed little Maverick. "I saw that you were all alone, so I thought I could be your friend."

And the horrible monster had to back down for that. Did he just say what she thought he said? _Friends?_ Oh boy, little Maverick just did the unthinkable. Nobody had ever asked Beca to be their friend. Well, except for Aubrey Posen, but it was all because of one jerk guy named Tom Jacobs; it was never intentional on either sides. Stan was her brother; Fat Amy and Jesse were her teammates; so they were _compulsory_ bound to be her friends. Stacie was always been _the _fuck buddy and nothing else. No, not even super friendly Chloe Beale technically never asked her to be a friend; just some really complicated thing going on in there. But adorably cute little Maverick here just asked her to be a friend just because he saw her standing all alone in a corner. So fuck swearing not to talk to him ever again.

"Are you some sort of a loner here, di-" Beca stopped herself when she was about to say it again. Fine, she had to at least try to put some effort, too. "Are you some sort of a loner here, kid?"

The kid shook his head immediately, "No. I have lots of friends. There's Zack, and Rory, and Felipe, and Tau, and Lola, and Padma-"

"I get it," she cut him off annoyed by the fact that this tiny younger person had more friends than she ever had or possibly would ever have. "You have tons of friends. I get it."

"One of them thinks you are a bad person," he shared the information truthfully. Kids and their innocently too honest blabber mouths.

"Maybe your friend is right."

Maverick shook his head again, "I don't think you are a bad person."

"I've been calling you a _dickhead_ since we've met."

And a terrible scowl was back on his face with folded arms, pouty lips, and squinted eyes to match the I-really-really-hate-you look he was going for. It was pretty convincing if you ask the brunette. And just like that little Maverick appeared to be a miniature version of Chloe Beale whenever you don't bother to laugh at her extremely corny jokes. Great, there wasn't just one single person who could get Beca out of character; there were two of them in a snap.

So the bodyguard looked down at the kid and sighed. When he only looked up to briefly emphasize his aversion, she turned her entire body and bent her knees down to level his height (the previous height difference was not that big anyway). She held him in a gentle grip and made him face her although he opted to look away.

"Look, I… I, uh…" she paused for a little while to let herself breathe. How many times did she have to remind everyone that she's not good at comforting people? And, frankly, she had never done before what she was about to do here. "I'm sorry."

There. She said it. Fuck 'apology doesn't bring back the dead'. Veronica Grant turned out to be alive after all. It's like all this time she was living one fucking lie.

"I know I've been an ass-" Beca made a halt when the kid gave her a look. Fine. "I've been nothing but _mean_ to you all this time, I'm sorry. And I'm sorry for calling you… that-word-I've-been-calling-you. You are not a… that-word-I've-been-calling-you. You are a… well, brave little warrior."

Everybody happy? Take it or leave it, but that's just how far Beca Branson could extend her good side which surprisingly existed. Don't expect a hug or a smile, you'd be disappointed. Fortunately, Maverick was satisfied by the sudden 180-degree turn of her personality. He finally met her eyes, and the scowl was quickly replaced by snickers.

"I told you," he said. "You are not a bad person, Becky."

"Beca," she muttered under her breath for correction. She was just starting to warm up. The horrible monster couldn't be provoked again just yet.

"Hey, Maverick," someone called out.

Beca and Maverick both turned their heads to see Chloe who was sandwiched by the other children smiling at the duo.

"We're about to play a game, and I need a partner for it. Would you like to do the honor?"

The young boy nodded his head excitedly as a response before looking back to his new friend.

"I really want to play, and Chloe is really pretty," he told the brunette, not even tried to hide the blush growing on his cheeks. "She just might want to be my girlfriend if we win this game."

Without waiting for a response, he hurriedly ran to the group to join their activities leaving Beca on her own. She knew it. This kid got his own private agenda. She stood back up to her feet and watched them play their silly little game. Chloe and Maverick were holding on too close to each other the whole time, Beca noticed. Okay, so she was able to finally get rid of Tom, but she's competing against this little rat this next round. Frankly, this one was a bigger threat. He already got more hugs and more kisses than necessary. But he's harmless, she decided. He's her friend who made her explicitly apologize. Indeed, such a brave little warrior.

As if Chloe had just read Beca's mind which was mostly filled with malicious thoughts on the poor little kid, the redhead glanced at her bodyguard and winked at her followed by her ever charming smile. Was it 'oh don't be so jealous' or 'I saw you being nice and your secret is safe with me'? Beca wasn't sure what the look meant exactly, but it wasn't just nothing, that's for sure. It has got to be _something_.

"So what's the feeling of standing in a room with other _actual _people where you are not the shortest one, _finally_?"

Beca didn't need to turn to her side to look at who was trying to keep her company this time. Again, she hated people who made fun of her height. That includes everybody, even her mother.

"Alright," Ronie huffed then fixed her eyes on the happy crowd when her daughter did not care to respond. "Apparently, you're still the least friendly one here."

"What are you doing here?" questioned the other.

"I work here," Barden Chief Directress answered casually. "What are _you_ doing?"

"You know that's not what I meant."

"What do you mean then? What am I doing here _alive_ when I should be floating _dead _somewhere in the ocean? Is that it?"

"I killed you already," Beca said as quietly as possible. Nobody else should hear it. Nobody else should know. She'd never expected it, but suddenly, she's thankful that Maverick poured that full pitcher of orange juice on her and ruined the communication device. Phil Mitchell _should _not be informed about this _miracle._

Her mother simply shrugged her shoulders and pursed her lips together. How do you respond to that kind of a statement?

"Well, you haven't apologized for it yet."

So the younger brunette let out a heavy sigh, and still not turning to look at her mother, muttered, "I'm sorry."

How many times had she say it in one single day? Maybe she's really not that bad of a person, after all.

"It's alright," Ronie flashed a smile at her killer. "You were thirteen and you were listening to your father. I'm alive now anyway. All is well, I guess... So how have you been, Beca?"

"Never used a gun again after that night."

That could explain the love for knives.

The Chief Directress nodded her head half-heartedly, "That's good… I think. And Stan?"

"He's alive."

So Ronie let out a sigh of relief and couldn't resist putting on another smile. Turned out, there was nothing to worry about. Both of her children were safe.

"So how did you survive?" Beca asked curiously. "I'm sure I shot you dead. Even Phil agrees."

Her mother chuckled as if the past was some kind of a hilarious joke.

"Yes, the bullets went right through my chest. In fact, I still have the scars. And yes, I fell off the bridge into the water. It was a hard fall, really… but I guess I had to live. I had to live for you and your brother."

Then the subject was no more of a joke already. Both became serious at the end of that last sentence. Years passed since the last time their _family_ was all together, and no matter how long it took, time just couldn't blur the tragic scene in mind. Ronie was running as fast as she could under the pouring rain until the Phoenixes had finally cornered her at the bridge. Thirteen-year old Beca held a gun to her mother with Phil standing right beside his daughter for supervision. Ronie could only move back until the rails signified that it was the end of it. She closed her eyes and braced for the expected. At the signal, Beca fired the gun while a young Stan screamed at her, begged her not to do it, but it was too late. Ronie's wounded body was already falling into the river.

"I would have hugged you earlier," Beca admitted not feeling the need to pretend in front of the person who brought her to life. "But I just couldn't. Not just yet."

"I've already forgiven you even before you pulled the trigger, honey" her mother flashed a reassuring smile. The younger brunette finally turned to look at her mother and nodded her head appreciatively. It had to be enough for the meantime. "So… working for the rich and famous Chloe Beale, huh? How did you go from working for Phil to protecting her? What happened to 'Fidelity to The Society'?"

The bodyguard did not respond.

"You killed your mother to join the organization. It took one beautiful young woman to make you leave?"

Ronie smirked as she raised her eyebrows goofily. Her daughter, however, remained silent.

"Well, she seems to be worth a hundred missions…"

Her voice trailed off as she slowly tried to comprehend all of it. Because The Secret Society just couldn't be mixed with anything or anyone else and you have the best and most loyal Phoenix out in the open, there could only be one good reason for that.

"You're on a mission," the Chief Directress finally realized. The amusement automatically disappeared from her face, clearly disappointed and disapproving. Beca sighed helplessly to confirm the idea. It was conversations like this one that made Veronica Grant an enemy. "What did your father ask you to do? Steal from her? Kill her? What?"

The best Phoenix doesn't just disclose mission details to outsiders.

"I'm still your mother, Beca. And it's still my right to tell you what I think about the things you do. You may or may not agree with me, but this mission is completely wrong."

But her daughter's job was to accomplish the mission.

"Look at her," her mother demanded. "Look at the children. Look at Chloe Beale and what she does for them… then, tell me if your The Secret Society is still worth more than her."

And Beca did as she was told. She looked at Chloe Beale as the redhead played the guitar while the kids sang along with her.

"Another day goes by and still the children cry  
Put a little love in your heart.  
If you want the world to know we won't let hatred grow  
Put a little love in your heart.  
And the world will be a better place  
And the world will be a better place for you and me  
You just wait and see. Wait and see."

It was amazing. She saw it. She saw what her mother wanted her to see. She saw Chloe and she saw every fucking reason to just end the mission unaccomplished and leave everything behind. But it's not that simple and easy. So keeping her head up and her face like a blank canvass, Beca looked like her old self – the callous young Phoenix who knew nothing but serve The Secret Society.

"Fidelity to The Society," she carefully declared her allegiance.

Ronie closed her eyes briefly as she sighed, shook her head in dismay and told her estranged daughter, "Put a little love, Beca. For once, just put a little love in your heart."

With that, the Chief Directress gave her one last condemning look then walked away. Her daughter needed not to pull a trigger this time to push her away. One ill-fated decision was more than enough. Beca's not a thirteen-year old kid anymore. She should know the right thing to do already.

* * *

Five minutes. It had been five minutes since Clarence Beale sat down on a seat by the clear window of the café where Phil Mitchell and the rest of the group could see him. Luke sat at the next table, alert, waiting and waiting restlessly for a cue. Two minutes more and finally, the man they were all awaiting for walked into the building. He was wearing a brown jacket on top of the white shirt and brought nothing else but presumably only with a gun hidden somewhere. Everybody was paying all their attention to him; eyes followed his every step as he traveled from the door to the table by the window.

"It's nice to see you, Mr. Beale," he spoke; his voice was husky and adorned with a thick Russian accent.

"Viktor," the man in a fancy suit and tie greeted back. He waved at the girl at the counter who immediately served a cup of coffee for his guest. "Have a drink."

Viktor laughed at the offer, but took a sip anyway. No, not sip. It was definitely not a small quantity of hot coffee.

"Must enjoy my _last_ cup of coffee, I guess."

His company did not say a word. When you hear about a sad truth, you just didn't know what to say to make it sound good because sometimes you just knew it's never going to get better. It was only made to be worse.

"They're watching us right now, aren't they?"

Clarence remorsefully nodded his head. Death in the form of The Secret Society was indeed watching them.

"Are you ready?" he asked the younger man.

"To die?" the Russian casually shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. I mean, is there a way to prepare for it? I've always thought if you die, then you die. That's just it."

"I'm sorry."

Again, Viktor laughed. Maybe when you're about to die everything just becomes too funny.

"Benji was right," he said. "You are a good man, Mr. Beale. Actually, you're too good to be in this mess. I don't have a family to mourn over me when I die anyway, but you have a daughter. So let's just say my life is a little sacrifice."

The old man put on a small smile as a sign of appreciation. He was not proud of it, but at least he had to appreciate it – the least he could do for all these people who were willing to die for his cause.

"What you need is in my house," informed Viktor after taking another drink of his coffee. "Living room, next to the TV. It's the one with a single button."

Clarence simply nodded his head again.

"In a few minutes, I'm going to die for you. I suppose you can do me one last favor, Mr. Beale."

"Of course."

"Do you know where the treasure is?"

Suddenly, it was Clarence's turn to laugh. He sipped on his own cup of coffee during the little pause then fixed an eye on the young man and slowly shook his head, "I'm afraid there is no treasure, Viktor."

Viktor let out a chuckle. _There is no treasure._ Perfect reason to die.

"Now open your laptop," he ordered. "Our guests have been waiting for far too long already. Let's start the show."

The man in a fancy suit and tie opened the laptop lying on the table, and then waited for the next instruction. It took another two minutes for Viktor to finally empty his cup of coffee. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and pulled a memory card out from his jacket's breast pocket.

"Here it is," he purposely let everybody see the item before handing it over willingly to the rich man. "That should keep them busy away from you as planned."

Clarence inserted the memory card to download the only file in it. It would take thirty seconds to download it according to the laptop screen, and as time passed by, everybody was growing more and more anxious.

"Anything you want me to say to Benji?" asked Viktor.

Fifteen seconds remaining. The other stared at the young man for some time then sighed.

"Tell him he's my fucking hero."

The Russian nodded his head and smiled, "Okay. Good luck, Mr. Beale. You're on your own now."

Five, four, three, two, one. _File downloaded_. Gun fires immediately echoed in the air, and so the entire street was set into commotion. Viktor fell on the ground after obtaining a bullet into his head. He was dead. He didn't even have the opportunity to retrieve the gun he brought for the occasion. Meanwhile, Clarence hurriedly grabbed the laptop to complete their planned deception as Luke ran in to rescue him. It was the perfect cue to do something. The bodyguard fired back without bothering to aim at their perfectly covered enemies as he escorted his boss to their planned exit route. However, the bullets kept flying over towards them. The Phoenixes mercilessly didn't stop firing away, not even after one then two then three bullets hit Clarence's back causing him to bleed alarmingly until he fell barely conscious down to the floor.

"Sir!" Luke exclaimed while desperately trying to help his boss up. "Are you okay? We have to get out of here now!"

Clarence raised his shaky hand to hold a grip of the blonde's clothes and struggled to whisper into his bodyguard's ear, "H-House… TV… r-remote."

"But sir!"

The redhead was wordless, only unsteady breathing was coming out of his airway. A backup team came to aid, but he was already about to shut his eyes and fall into unconsciousness. Unfortunately, it was never part of their plan.

* * *

Aubrey Posen came back to the garden after engaging in a phone conversation which surprisingly lasted for a couple of hours. Chloe briefly looked up from the letter she was writing to witness the crazy ear-to-ear grin plastered on her best friend's face, and then sighed. A grumpy Aubrey was tolerable as it was something natural, but a too blissful Aubrey was just plain annoying because that meant she could be a bigger pain in the ass than her usual self. Even the brunette bodyguard who was silently standing nearby agreed in her own way.

"Who was that?" Chloe questioned, going back to her own business. "Obviously, that wasn't your father because you wouldn't be looking too… _amused_."

The blonde heiress flopped into the chair across the table, hummed dreamily, and replied with an incredibly high-pitched voice, "That was Stan."

_"She didn't mean my Stan, right, Beca?"_

Chloe, once again, looked up to check on her best friend. Aubrey looked serious enough to be reliable despite the lunatic expression on her face. Then, the redhead glanced at her bodyguard who looked just as surprised.

"Stan? You mean Beca's brother?"

Aubrey held on her chair and gasped. She put on that dramatic look which generally made her best friend roll her eyes and scoff.

"There is only one Stan in my life. And he is the one and only man in my heart. You are unbelievable, Chloe. How dare you accuse me of seeing another guy! And you call yourself my best friend?"

"I-I… I'm not _accusing_ you," defended the other. "I was just… _asking_, you know, for confirmation. I mean, I didn't even say 'another guy'. Where the hell did you get that? I only said that…"

But the blonde was already giving her a look which meant she had to stop talking already.

"Oh hell, forget it. Whatever, Posen."

"Ask me what we talked about," Aubrey commanded. In a snap, she was back to her cloud 9 zone much to her best friend's annoyance. Chloe paused from writing to let out a heavy sigh.

"Is it going to take you another couple of hours to tell me about it?"

_"Couple of hours? What the actual fuck! Couple of hours, Beca? How could you let her talk to my Stan for a couple of hours!"_

If it was so irritating for Chloe to listen to Aubrey's Stan-is-mine stories, Beca also had to listen to Fat Amy's own stories at the same time. The brunette still couldn't believe how she'd been keeping her sanity.

"I asked him if he wants to hang out with me," Aubrey said excitedly even clapping her hands together, ignoring her best friend's question completely. "Stan and I are going out on a date this weekend."

_"What?"_

Beca couldn't resist the instinctive urge to flinch and held on to her ear at the piercing sound of Fat Amy's mortified screams. She didn't want anything to do with it, but okay, she had to do something to save her left ear from going deaf.

"Uh… w-why the fuck are you and Stan would do that?" she asked in the most grilling voice she could sound like.

_"That's right, Beca. Tell that blonde bitch she's not going anywhere with my Stan."_

The other two ladies instantly turned their heads towards the bodyguard. The blonde one looked shocked at the sudden interrogation. The redhead, on the other hand, was smiling beyond delight at the sight of the typical interrogator being interrogated for once.

"Well…" Aubrey's voice gave away her apprehension at first, but later on folded her arms over her chest in a pretentious confidence. "I love him and he loves me, so we're going out on a date. Then, he's going to propose on one knee with the most gorgeous diamond ring the face of the earth had ever seen. I'd say 'yes', is that even a question? Before you know it, we're getting married in Rome. Of course, you'll be my Maid of Honor, Beale. After that, we'll spend our honeymoon at some Asian paradise, and I'm going to have his babies, Chloe! And we will live happily ever after."

_"What?  
_

Beca had to endure yet another piercing scream from her earpiece. Worst move. She should have never spoken anything at all.

"Okay, Posen. That escalated quickly," Chloe flashed a sarcastic grin towards her best friend, and then resumed with writing. "For a moment, you totally sounded like Taylor Swift. Oh, blonde hair, too. I get it now. So which song are we trying to incorporate here?"

The Posen heiress threw her a death glare and her best friend had to chuckle.

"But seriously, Aubrey, don't ever tell your dad about your imagination – I mean, _plans_… or he'll never let you go to that date. Trust me."

_"What's her father's name again? He'll definitely hear it from me."_

But this time, Beca was not going to say anything anymore. She simply let out a long sigh as a response and let these two blondes deal with their boy problems. Come on, she didn't even like boys in the first place.

"Hey, my dear _friend_ Beca," Aubrey turned to the bodyguard, her face had another crazy ear-to-ear grin on display.

Chloe and Beca automatically exchanged looks. It was either the fact that the blonde heiress called the brunette 'my dear friend' or was it the second crazy ear-to-ear grin on her face that was more terrifying. Okay, maybe both were equally disturbing, unfortunately.

"_And now you are her 'dear friend Beca'? Great."_

"What kind of things does Stan like?" the other blonde asked with paramount interest.

Beca shrugged her shoulders.

"Favorite food? Favorite color? Favorite movie? Favorite music? Least favorite place in the world? Most embarrassing moment? Happiest moment? What kind of a woman is his type?"

_"Figure Skating! Tell her that Stan loves figure skating."_

Stan Mitchell hated figure skating (a.k.a. that sports on ice without nets), not to mention it would have made him seem so gay. So again, left with no much option to choose from, the brunette simply shrugged her shoulders.

"Come on, Beca," Aubrey begged throwing out the pouty lips at the other. "We're practically going to be sisters."

_"Really, Beca?"_

"I-I…uh… S-Stan…" the bodyguard stammered while she crammed to find a suitable response for it. "T-Two hours. Y-You had two hours of conversation with him. How come you weren't able to ask Stan about the kind of things he likes?"

"Well, I was busy telling him the kind of things _I _like."

Stan Mitchell could tolerate talkative, but not self-centered.

_"Awesome. I don't even have to do anything now. It's like she just hit on the self-destruction button."_

Beca could definitely sense the evil smirk along with Fat Amy's evil laugh.

"You can't be too self-centered," she warned the lady sitting in front of her.

_"Beca!"_

The blonde heiress gasped at the impression then slowly turned to her best friend with a frown.

"Self-centered? Chloe? Is that what I am?"

You know that thing they say about best friends telling ugly truths about each other? Yeah, that would _never_ work on _the _Aubrey Posen.

"Just…" Chloe finally dropped the pen to think hard, concentrate. She had to be careful with the words she was about to speak out loud. It would totally make or break their friendship. "You… are… beautiful."

_"You're right. Chloe's not a good liar."_

But Aubrey got the point anyway. Fine.

"A dress?" she asked Beca. Third shrug for the day from the brunette. "You have got to be kidding me! Don't you ever wonder what kind of things Stan is attracted to?"

"Uh… He is my _brother._"

_"She doesn't get the point. Of course you're not interested in him. You're gay."_

Beca took a very deep shaky breath that even Chloe was already waiting for the bodyguard to snap. One more thing about this crazy Stan-is-mine competition and she'd have to gut somebody, or at least punch somebody really hard on the face to get through it.

"That's it. I'm going shopping," Aubrey announced then fished out her purse from the table.

_"No! Stop the blonde bitch, Beca!"_

"Wait," her best friend called out. "You said you were gonna help me with the letters... Aubrey!"

But the blonde heiress was already on her way to the hallway. She wasn't even listening anymore. Her brain was just quickly filled with Stan-related thoughts. Then, poof, she was gone.

_"I hate her so damn much."_

"Ugh, forget it."

Chloe rolled her eyes and shook her head. Unbelievable. Her _not-so-_self-centered best friend went skipping out of the door to go impress a guy instead of helping her out with her letters. (It was for the Barden kids, by the way. Just some notes to remind them that they're loved.) To be fair, Aubrey was opposed to the idea to begin with. She thought Chloe could have settled with a tweet. But of course, the thoughtful heiress opted to do something more personal and sincere.

"You need help?"

The redhead turned to the source of the voice to see her bodyguard's typical blank stare directed towards her. She was suddenly reminded that there were just the two of them left at the garden – just her and Beca.

"Well…" Chloe's voice trailed off, unsure of what to say. This was new. This was not the normal kind of bodyguard duty they were both used to, and Beca Branson was actually trying to volunteer herself. So the young heiress scanned the table for anything. "Aubrey was supposed to h-help me with… the e-envelopes. You know, just writing a name on each, fold the letters, put it in, and then seal the envelopes."

"I can do that," Beca guaranteed as she slowly approached the seat recently vacated by the blonde heiress.

_"Did you ever ask if I need help?"_

The brunette let out a very long huff because for one, she deliberately needed dodging her partner in crime's rhetorical question, and two, the truth was she had no idea what she was doing. Her boss handed out the list of the kids' names and a pack of colorful envelopes.

"Start with the labeling," the redhead instructed. "Just to make sure we don't forget anyone."

Beca nodded her head positively then sighed once more. Writing. Just writing. How hard could that be? She took one envelope – yellow, her old nemesis – picked up a pen then checked the list of names. First one was a kid named _Alice. _Five-letter name, it should be easy. So, nervously, she guided the pen on the surface of the envelope to form the letters.

Thirteen seconds. It took her thirteen seconds to write the name _Alice_. She stared at it for a moment more and grimaced at her handwriting. It was crap. Chloe glanced at Beca's recent achievement if you could call it that. Yeah, the handwriting was definitely a crap.

"You're doing great, Branson," she grinned at the brunette. For the record, it wasn't sarcastic.

_"I know what your handwriting looks like, Mitchell. It's official. She is the worst liar in the world."_

Beca didn't care about Fat Amy's opinion though. Chloe might have been the worst liar, but at least she knew how to make someone feel better. So the brunette murmured a little word of gratitude for the little encouragement and went on with her work.

Halfway through, two maids came to bring the snacks. No matter how Chloe tried, her bodyguard just wouldn't take a break. Surprisingly, even for Fat Amy, Beca was truly enjoying her new found passion for lettering, and the redhead couldn't help but smile at her favorite quiet cricket every stolen glances. Times like this, although the daunting beast would never admit it, her metal heart just seemed to be melting. Unfortunately there was no way to snap a picture without her minding it.

"… 78… 79… 80!" Chloe exclaimed in excitement after doing the final count. 80 letters neatly placed in 80 colorful envelopes for 80 adorable Barden kids. Through the happily satisfied smile on her lips, an exhausted huff escaped her mouth as she leaned back to her chair, and suddenly, she felt a pair of dark blue orbs staring at her attentively. "Thank you for helping me, but stop staring, Branson."

_"Ooh. So you're staring at her, eh?"_

Beca ignored the teasing coming out of the earpiece and started writing on a piece of paper. Seemed like she wouldn't stop writing already. A little confused, Chloe received the paper and read it. She giggled at the crappy looking handwriting much to the other's annoyance.

_I THOUGHT WE CAN TALK WHILE I PRACTICE MY HANDWRITING, _the brunette wrote. This might be the only opportunity to fulfill her promise.

The redhead eagerly picked up the pink pen to write her response.

_I THOUGHT IT CAN'T GET ANY WORSE, CRICKET._

Beca quickly ran her eyes through the note and scoffed. The other giggled once again at the reaction.

_ANYTHING YOU WANT TO ASK ME?_

The amusement on Chloe's face gradually disappeared upon reading. She looked at the woman seated across the table who simply stared back at her. Ask Beca? There were so many things the redhead wanted to ask Beca; maybe this little piece of paper offered inadequate amount of space for all of them.

_WHY DID YOU KISS ME, BECA?_

Undeniably, two hearts were beating so fast while the brunette read it and wrote a response. Afterwards, she couldn't meet Chloe's eyes anymore.

_IT'S MY JOB TO STOP YOU FROM GETTING HURT._

But the truth was Beca was helplessly hurting the redhead with that one simple sentence. There came the emphasis on job compliance once again – unfortunately, it wasn't the kind of answer Chloe was hoping for.

_THEN IT'S ALSO YOUR JOB TO TELL ME HOW YOU REALLY FEEL ABOUT IT._

The bodyguard let out a sigh. What would she say?

_NOTHING._

And that was it. Chloe could hear the sound of her heart shattering into pieces once more. It's that fucking word again. Really, it's funny and frustrating at the same time how that one single word could mean so much and could hurt all the more.

"Paul is looking for me," Beca lied to get away from the unstoppable growing awkwardness between them. She couldn't face it – not like this with repressed feelings scribbled in notes and with a scrutinizing recording device that the other wasn't even aware of.

_"No, he's not. I didn't get a message. What are you talking about?"_

The brunette purposely ignored the dissent from her partner in crime and vacated her seat to leave as soon as her boss nodded her head along with that forced weak smile. She knew the redhead was forcing it because the tears welling up in her eyes just looked so sad and broken. Fuck. How many times did Beca have to remind herself to avoid eye contact with Chloe? Brace for a horrible monster out of character.

"Next time I give you that for an answer, I want you to remember that I'm the best liar in town."

Of course, Fat Amy started launching all the confused questions, but Beca was already too busy staring back at her favorite redhead who just had her entire world go upside down. Beca's lips slowly curved into a surprisingly successful small smile, and Chloe could only chuckle through her joyful tears at the extremely unusual sight. That was the day the word 'nothing' meant so much more than it was intended to be. And maybe, just maybe, that was the day they realized they were about to begin one crazy romantic love story… and there was no more turning back.

* * *

_Song: Put A Little Love In Your Heart - Jackie Deshannon_

_Okay, so it's not the kind of 'talk' most of you have probably expected. Too quick? Not even dramatic? I don't know. It was a real challenge for me with Fat Amy's presence as well as the communication device. I just hope I pulled it off. And I'm sorry for the all caps. Did it in the hopes of avoiding confusion._

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Pitch Perfect.


	15. Slasher

**_PurpleWedding:_**_ Welcome to the fandom! :) I see your pen name by the way, are you a Game of Thrones fan?_

**_avidreader, itsmefiebs, Moxain:_**_ Finally, it is._

**_gehbati47: _**_Thanks so much! I hope I don't disappoint you as we go further into the story._

**_ThirteenStrikes, atty jannie:_**_ Here it is. :)_

**_RobOverstreet:_**_ (Kind of SPOILER) Technically, Clarence isn't dead. At least, not yet. And, well, Veronica will play a very significant role in this. Mothers always do, right?_

**_PitchPerfectLover: _**_It's actually one of my favorite lines, too. I thought to have her say 'I love you' would be 'too soon' and 'too cliche' so I really had to come up with something that would totally make up for all the 'nothing'. Now about Stacie... I actually like her. I mean, I'm still heartbroken for what happened in Chapter 7. I honestly hope that she gets a happy ending, too._

**_madness2013:_**_ I don't know anything about you, but weirdly enough, I think I can picture you screaming and getting all giddy. LOL._

___**AnonPF: **Beca, I think, is ironically a real fun character. I don't know, I just really love exploring the possible sides of her personality. _

**_cxcxcx386:_**_ I guess I wanted things to be different. I think writing love letters is really sweet and romantic, but I can't have Beca to do that. And well, maybe as some people would say, I'm kind of unpredictable that suddenly my idea of a 'talk' is 'note passing'. The last time I wrote a series, I was stuck in one character's POV, so I just want to explore a lot of things right now. And I'm having a lot of fun writing the Fat Amy-Stan-Aubrey love triangle on the side. :)_

**_KBY:_**_ I think Maverick is just so cute, enough said. LOL. Really? It's that good? I'd love to publish it, but I practically don't have the necessary resources and networks for that. For now, I'm just really glad that I have people who appreciate it. :)_

**_writing is love: _**_We're getting there, dear. :)_

**_MysticFalls94:_**_ I knew it would have that effect. LOL._

**_BeChloeFan01:_**_ I can't promise you anything, but yeah, maybe the real story is just about to start. Just so you know, I write chapters while listening to some music. For this chapter, I had Sing It Loud for the entire week._

_NOTE: If you haven't watched the movie Happy Birthday To Me yet and you're actually planning to watch it in the future, you will surely be spoiled. And I've never been to Russia, so I'm not particularly familiar with the place, just in case some of you might ask. Lastly, italicized statements are Fat Amy's unless stated otherwise. Okay, you're good to go. Enjoy! :)_

* * *

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: **Slasher**

"Here, have some popcorn," Chloe even made a pause in order to make an offer of the large bucket in the most annoyingly playful manner just to add more discomfort on the obviously already uncomfortable very quiet cricket compulsory sitting next to her.

Beca could not even remember how it happened, but the redheaded monster somehow managed to talk her into watching a movie. The bamboozled bodyguard found herself inside Beale Manor's incredibly huge _Pirates of the Caribbean_-themed home theater room (Yes, it's practically a wooden ship!) complete with a crow's nest, shrouds, a ship wheel, ancient-looking barrels, and of course, a life-size statue of no other than Captain Jack Sparrow himself.

Despite feeling terrorized, not to mention violated in so many levels, she glued her eyes on the ridiculously awesome 152-inch television screen and obligated herself to watch the film _Happy Birthday To Me_. She needed to keep her focus on the movie, or else, the moment her eyes would tore away from the screen, she'd be on her way out of the manor. Not that she was scared of slasher and gore movies – her entire life was a good example already – it's just that she hated movies in general. However, Chloe Beale who was recently upgraded to the "more than a friend, less than a lover" status still insisted that they spend the time watching movies together. So, yeah, Beca didn't really have the choice.

"Remind me again why we're watching a crappy movie," she whispered as if to avoid disturbing the rest of the non-existing moviegoers in the theater.

Chloe enforced herself to sit still and refrain from recoiling in her chair or looking away from the screen in repulsion as the disgusting scene of Ginny Wainwright's brain operation was about to begin. She couldn't let her company know that she was feeling just as uneasy because the upcoming sight of a bloody internal organ was simply too unbearable to watch for her. There's quite a reason why she'd never dreamt to be in the medical profession.

"Your brother is taking my best friend to see that new Insidious film," she replied as calm as possible avoiding real hard to make unnecessary pauses for chokes and flinches out of fright. "We need to have our fair share of a good scary movie. It is _not_ crappy, okay? For your information, this is a classic slasher film with its own cult following."

"You only have a killer on the loose chasing down a group of snobbish high school kids which includes this maniacal girl. What's so 'classic' about it? They all probably deserve the scare anyway."

The redhead turned her head towards the only killjoy in the room to give her the evil glare causing Beca to shut her mouth immediately. More than that, it was indeed a perfect excuse to look away and avoid having to watch the rest of the nauseating scene of brain incision without raising any suspicion. Her loud squeal though when an unexpected surprise flashed on the screen a few minutes later ultimately ended her fake bravery.

Beca fixed a confused look at her lady boss as they both started a silly staring contest until Chloe finally let out a sigh in surrender. It's over. The fearless brunette was already possibly thinking that the heiress was just another lame girly girl who could not even handle a gory movie, and then turn out to be a major turnoff. However, instead of leaving or moving away, Beca took the large bucket of popcorn and placed it on the nearby empty chair so she could grab hold of Chloe's hand without an obstruction and pull the scaredy-cat closer to her.

"You almost managed to fool me there," she told the redheaded monster truthfully. "Pretending to be the unafraid one, huh?"

"I'm not afraid," the other lied.

"Nice try," teased the brunette. "Well, how about this? From this moment until the end of this crap whenever you get surprised by an unanticipated scare, just scream as loud as you can and I'll pretend I don't hear anything. Whenever you get horrified by a ridiculously blood-spattered death scene, I'll give you a hand in covering your eyes or we can just bury your face on my shoulder - whatever works for you. Is that alright? Do we have a deal, scaredy-cat?"

Chloe happily nodded her head in a swift, and so her bodyguard straightaway intertwined her fingers with the redhead's silky smooth ones for a gentle tight grip. Okay, that was an unanticipated scare, although in a good way. Should the redhead scream as loud as she can in excitement then? Before she could even decide, her protector looked back up to the pair of bright blue eyes glinting in the dark.

"And let's see if my hand could be a good alternative for a stress ball," Beca added into the deal.

The young heiress smiled and blushed at the same time. What? She couldn't help it. Who would honestly ever think that this day would actually come? Beca, both Mitchell and Branson, was _almost _willing to watch a movie and was being so caring and thoughtful towards another human being. On top of that, here's the horrible monster that was feared by everyone and was so committed at remaining loveless for eternity triumphantly pulling off the sweet and romantic persona. All made possible by the one and only Chloe Beale.

"Less staring, more watching."

She didn't even realize she was staring if Beca didn't point it out to her. In a swift, Chloe returned her gaze towards the screen and automatically regretted that she had left her cloud 9 zone because a sudden death scene almost gave her the heart attack.

"Ugh," she breathed out as she rolled her eyes. "Aubrey must be having more fun than us."

The brunette knowingly shook her head in complete disagreement.

"She's having the worst date in her life. Trust me."

Before the confused redhead could formulate a question, Beca told her to go back to film watching. True to the statement, Aubrey Posen was indeed having the worst date in her entire life. She didn't know how in the world, but Fat Amy suddenly showed up uninvited. The Australian blonde joined every activity, both planned and the spontaneous ones, much to the heiress' great frustration. Stan swore he had nothing to do with it… which was true. Well, it was all part of a little deal between certain partners in crime. Fat Amy was free to go without Jesse or Phil knowing only if Beca would get a day off, too, translating to a whole-day disconnection from the hidden communication device. It was a win-win situation, so who would pass on that? Ah, the kind of things you do in the name of love.

* * *

"Now tell me about the treasure map, Swanson."

In Moscow, Phil Mitchell gave out his commands to Jesse through the communication device connected directly to the Communication Center back at the Pandemonium. A laptop was set up on the coffee table in his hotel room with an interactive map of Russia clearly displayed on the screen.

"_Sir, I'm not entirely sure about this kind of… I mean… I-I don't understand. This can't be Benji's-"_

"I don't care if this was Benji's work or not," Phil didn't shout, but the elements of impatience and irritation were rather too evident in his statement making the younger man more nervous than he already was. "The Russian must have had a great contribution to this as well, but it's not my goddamn concern. Just _fucking _tell me what I need to know about this shit."

"_Of course, sir. I'm sorry."_

Jesse's voice was low and truly apologetic that one could sense that he already had his head bowed down out of terror and embarrassment. The oldest Mitchell rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation. Time was running and it's too essential to be wasted like this.

"Swanson, you don't want to keep me waiting."

"_I-I… uh… t-the map is basically the map of Russia, sir. There are f-five marked up destinations. We each have a location in Podolsk, Smolensk, Saint Petersburg, Bryansk, and Lipetsk."_

The laptop screen would flash various pictures – the magnified versions of the different destinations – zooming in through the interactive map as Jesse tried to brief his boss on the necessary details for the bizarre treasure hunting.

"So where should I go?" Phil asked curiously, even distorting his face in an obvious confusion.

A loud gulp was heard from the other end of the line during an involuntary awkward pause followed by a controlled exhale of air. The young IT expert was about to say something that was going to surely disappoint his superior.

"_Uh… S-Sir, I am not really sure about all this-"_

As expected, Phil cut him off, his voice was stained with intimidation and threat.

"That's not the kind of an answer I want from you, Jesse."

"_I-I mean, these locations were certainly marked up for a reason, sir. There are various t-theories which we could actually derive from this scenario. But if you want my honest opinion on this, my s-suggestion, sir, would be… for the team… to go see a-all of them."_

The head Phoenix let out a long infuriated sigh as he began massaging his forehead before an unwanted headache could plague his already stressed out mind. _Five _destinations in search for _one_ freaking treasure. But The Secret Society needed it so badly to survive. So, okay. Fine.

"I need a road itinerary _strategically_ arranged then. _Pronto._ And take note that we can't use any of the available public transportation system. It's too risky. We don't want the Russian police to be chasing on our tail."

"_Well, this is what I have in mind, sir… from Moscow you can depart to Saint Petersburg; head to Smolensk then Bryansk then Lipetsk. From there, you can drive straight to Podolsk. However… all of which requires… l-long drive, sir. Saint Petersburg to Smolensk, for example, requires 10 to 12 hours of travelling time."_

Jesse's voice reduced its volume as he got closer and closer towards the end of his statement. The apprehension established in it was no doubt hinting on the unfortunate emergence of at least one major problem. His superior somehow surprisingly still managed to contain his temper.

"So how long are we talking about here, Jesse?" he inquired.

"_Uh… assuming you'll be engaged into a non-stop road trip, sir… it will still take you t-three days the least to complete what the map demands."_

And that was it, he couldn't hold everything together anymore. The old man flipped the coffee table, not giving a damn if the laptop or any of the breakable materials would be destroyed, demonstrating the amount of rage spreading out in his entire being. What kind of a treasure hunting was it? It was insane! Again, _five_ destinations? Five destinations scattered all across the gigantic country of Russia, not to mention the unreasonable travelling time compelled by the long distance from one location to another. The only guarantee here that the treasure would eventually be found in the end of all this was the fact that the Russian man died for it and that Clarence Beale was determined enough to secure a copy of the precious file to his possession. This better be it. The treasure better be somewhere in those destinations. Otherwise, Phil Mitchell's revenge was going to be wrathful and merciless nobody would be spared.

* * *

If you think you have been to the worst birthday party ever then you should see Ginny Wainwright's party at the end of the _Happy Birthday To Me _movie, and then you can start reevaluating your standards. Her guests? Well, just her friends. Bernadette with a slit throat, face gored Etienne, Greg with a throat crushed by a weight lift, gutted Alfred, and Steve with a shish kebab rod shoved into his mouth. And let's not forget her mother's already been long rotten dead body freshly dug out straight from the grave by the way.

"Okay. That was totally… creepy," Chloe, in a mostly absentminded state, slowly nodded her head as the closing scary score started filling the atmosphere inside the home theater. She later on turned her head towards the unimpressed woman next to her, and asked "What do you think?"

Beca Branson replied with that ever annoying straight face she had amazingly mastered all these years. Seriously though, what kind of a person with the right mind would keep on responding in such deliberately mocking manner whenever you ask her questions which actually require an extensively elaborate answer?

"Really?" the redhead spoke in that cold monotonous voice with a downward intonation. "After all this time, we're going back to square one? You're still giving me that stupid blank stare? Newsflash: nobody really knows exactly what it means, Branson."

This should have been the part where Beca must have had a mental panic attack because she didn't see any problem in her habit of giving out blank stares as her signature response. However, the fact that their hands were still clasped together didn't make her worry at all. Chloe Beale just wasn't good at getting mad and especially at _staying_ mad. She was simply this person who was filled with positive sunlight in her spirit.

"See? You're not speaking again," complained the young heiress. "This is exactly why people think you are rude beyond repair, and this is why little Maverick has more friends than you have."

Not that little rat again. Beca let out an annoyed huff, and with her blank stare already stained with displeasure, reluctantly shared her honest opinion, "It's a crap."

"_Your_ handwriting is a crap," argued the other. Her lips curved into a goofy smug.

From this day forward, the daunting beast would be writing a list of people she hated for making fun of her handwriting. Fine, Chloe Beale would never make it on the list no matter how hard she'd try. She would be an exception – the _only _exception – because she was just too precious to be hated.

"It's stupid and unrealistic," the brunette added into her critical review, and the truth was it wasn't helping her cause. "You can't scare people by splashing corn syrup and red food color everywhere."

"Stupid and unrealistic?"

There's the intimidating downward intonation again. Chloe had a semi-death glare on her face, insulted – not for the movie's reputation, but certainly because she was one of those people who got easily scared of the sight of corn syrup and red food color splashed everywhere. But the other didn't have to know about that.

"That thing with the fire poker - there's too much blood depicted in the movie. That's just terribly too impossible in real life."

"And how do you know about that?" challenged the other. "Another fiction movie depicted otherwise?"

No. Beca had killed a human being with a fire poker before. _Thrice._ But the other didn't have to know about that.

"The point is you get scared by every little thing."

"I do not."

The brunette fixed that mocking emotionless expression at her boss again and tilted her head to the side – one last chance for Chloe to take back her proposition. The young heiress knew there was no way to win this little debate because it was frankly true, but she was not going to quit just yet.

"One slasher movie doesn't prove anything," she defended with her arms folded together over her chest and her chin raised up in a pretentious confidence.

But the bodyguard only shook her head in disapproval. She finally let go of Chloe's hand since the movie ended then stood up and turned around so she was facing the already very confused redhead. Before long, Beca put a hand on her leather jacket's zipper and, in a mind-bending slow motion, pulled it down to allow a small glimpse of that valuable yellow Las Vegas shirt.

"What are you doing?" questioned Chloe, suddenly feeling nervous anticipating something horrible to happen.

The brunette, however, only replied by taking off the outer piece of clothing completely.

"I hate to break it to you, Beca, but I'm not scared of _yellow _shirts like you do."

But no, that's not going to change the plan apparently. Beca held on the hem of her shirt ready to pull it off any moment she pleased. Chloe became noticeably restless and fidgety in her seat as the cloth started to rise revealing some skin _dramatically_ inch by inch. She deliberately swallowed the lump stuck in her throat while maintaining her gaze hesitantly on the slender body that was about to be exposed in its nakedness. What was it with Stan and Beca that this brother-and-sister duo had made a habit out of getting nude in front of other people? Her toned stomach was already glaring back in its full view, and her brassier was surely next to come.

"Stop! Stop!" Chloe hurriedly held Beca's hands and pushed them back down with the rest of the yellow shirt ending the entire impromptu show. "Forget it. You win, okay? I-I get the point, so just stop."

"What point?" asked the brunette in the most possible sound of innocence, even shrugging her shoulders to complete the feigned image. "You mean the point that you get so freaked out whenever you see _me_ almost naked or that you get so freaked out whenever I see _you_ almost naked?"

The taller woman threw an evil glare and pushed Beca clumsily. The stronger one though grabbed the passively aggressive pair of hands, gently pulled them, and secured Chloe's body dangerously close. Just a few inches apart, Beca watched the shock spread across that angelic face and the secret sudden delight in those bright blue orbs.

"I know you get scared when I'm too distant, but even more when I get too close," she whispered, suddenly becoming more and more attractively sensual without even meaning to; her breath would have overlapped with the redhead's if only Chloe would remember to breathe. "You're scared when I won't touch you as well as when I hold you. You're scared about almost every little thing about me. So, tell me, what happened? I thought I don't scare you anymore, Chloe."

The redhead was dumbfounded. Maybe it was the fact that Beca just spoke Chloe's name out loud and clear. The first and last time she did, the heiress was caught in a bear hug after a little fight regarding Tom, and then this, she was caught in this kind of a hypnotizing love spell.

"I'm just too damn scared to lose you now," was all Chloe could whisper back.

Or maybe it was the fact that Beca's lips were so close she could just lean in a little more and kiss them. So that's what she eventually did. Chloe pressed her lips against Beca's, brushed them softly at first, then the level of intensity and truculence increased every second as the kiss uncontrollably deepened through the patience of time – an heiress' grace and a Phoenix's code completely thrown out of the window in the middle of this rave party exclusive for two people crazy in love.

"_Beca. Beca? Beca! Pick up the fucking phone! Yes, you simply slide the screen, idiot."_

The hand crawling up under Chloe's blouse suddenly stopped on its tracks at the sound of Fat Amy's thick Australian accent which was then specially annoying for totally interrupting the moment. However, truth be told, Chloe was not entirely sure how to feel about it. Disappointed because they were really getting to it very well or relieved that she got to have an excuse for not doing _it_ yet? Before she could even figure out her emotions, Beca had already groaned in dismay and had let go of the redhead. She needed to take the call. It was part of the stupid deal. Fat Amy was not allowed to call _unless_ it's an emergency which the top Phoenix could not ignore at all.

"Two minutes," she promised the redhead. "Give me two minutes."

Chloe nodded her head along with that forged frown. She watched Beca rush to the hallway, and then ultimately took a very deep breath. What the hell just happened? Was she making out with the brunette in the home theater room and on their first date? Yeah, it's called a first date even though nobody would say it aloud. For some reason, the realization bothered the young heiress so much. It's just making out (which could have really ended up into sex) which was a pretty normal thing, but just uncomfortable for the redhead. She initiated the kiss, but it took her a lot of courage to do that. She kissed Beca back, but it really scared her a lot. Maybe the brunette was right. Maybe Chloe was indeed scared of every little thing including sex. Well, you just couldn't blame a virgin for it, right?

* * *

"_Beca. Beca? Beca! Pick up the fucking-"_

Very much annoyed by the sound of the worst personalized ringtone in the planet, Beca hurriedly slid on the phone screen to answer the fucking call, "This better be important, Fat Amy, or I swear I'd-"

"_Treasure map."_

No, it wasn't Fat Amy. The frustration on Beca's face disappeared in an instant as her brother's voice was heard from the other end of the line. This truly had to be an emergency if Stan himself was calling to deliver the news.

"_The memory card contains a treasure map. There's a treasure map, kiddo, and Phil has it. They're moving in tonight to start with the hunt. According to Jesse, it'll take them three days to accomplish it. Three more days, and Phil will have his treasure."_

Three days. Three more days and all of these would finally be over. Three more fucking days and she would have to say goodbye to Chloe Beale. No, it just couldn't be. Everything between them had just begun to fall into the right places for the first time, and then in three days, Beca would have to walk away like nothing ever happened. If only she had kept her mouth shut. If only she had buried the feelings, and then trapped them somewhere they could never be found again. If only she had just stayed inside the shield of her metal heart, then it sure would have been relatively easier to leave. But it happened. She wasn't even supposed to, but she fell in love with Chloe, and there could be no way to leave without getting hurt or inflicting pain.

"That's good news then," she replied in her usual monotonous voice as if the information didn't affect her at all in any way just like what the old Beca would totally sound like.

"_For you it's not. It means that you only have three days to decide which side of the game you're on."_

"Fidelity to The Society," she muttered quickly letting no suspicious pause to come by and with enough conviction to persuade anybody.

"_What about Chloe? She needs you now, kiddo. She needs somebody to protect her, to make her feel alright. She needs somebody she can trust, and quite frankly, right now that's just you."_

"She should have never trusted me in the first place, Stan."

"_Don't tell me you, guys, haven't heard about it yet."_

Heard about what? Beca remained silent waiting for her brother to just fucking tell her what was happening.

"_Clarence Beale was severely shot. He's dying right now."_

And the brunette could have just died right then and there. She didn't even have to wait for three days to say goodbye to Chloe. It's over even before they could go out on the next date. The moment the young heiress would find out about it, and that Beca had something to do with it – just find out about all the truths and lies, she would surely throw out the enemy-in-disguise and loath her forever and ever.

As if on cue, Kimmy Jin was brisk walking through the hallways towards the direction of the home theater room while Gail, in her stilettos, was running after her Asian counterpart. The bodyguard turned around to witness the two executive assistants arguing against each other.

"Don't tell her," Gail begged grabbing the brunette's arm to make her finally stop on her tracks. "Kimmy, just stop. Don't tell Chloe!"

But Kimmy Jin firmly shook her head in disapproval, "What do you want me to do, Gail? We can't just sit around and pretend like everything's fine. Chloe deserves to know, and that's why I'm telling her myself now."

"We were given orders! Mr. Beale said if he didn't come back, the only news we tell his daughter is his death!"

"Either way, she's going to be heartbroken anyway! At _least_, with a hospitalized man, we get to give her a little hope for something!"

"And what if he doesn't make it?" Gail challenged, and Kimmy Jin suddenly had to stop. The blonde let go of the arm and sighed. Yeah, what if he didn't make it? What would happen to that little hope for something? "I care about the kid as much as you care about her, you know... but nobody loves her as much as her father does. So if he thinks not telling Chloe that his life is in great danger is the best option here then maybe it is."

"Don't tell her," Beca suddenly spoke, startling the two assistants. Never mind that Stan was still at the other end of the line. Never mind that the typical heartless person all of a sudden looked and sounded desperate. "_Please_. Don't tell Chloe. Don't tell her just yet."

Okay, it might have sounded selfish. In fact, it was too selfish to ask for it for her own interest. However, in Beca's defense, Clarence Beale had the possible chance to survive, to wake up on the hospital bed, to go back home, and the rest of his life to spend with his daughter. If not, Chloe still would have all the time to mourn over her father's death. Beca Branson, on the other hand, only had three days to live and to actually exist like a real person. After that, she'd be gone forever without a single trace but a memory of lies. So yes, not even thinking twice, she'd just let it be. She'd spend the last three days of her temporary existence being selfish only for a chance of a beautiful goodbye with Chloe. Luckily, Gail and Kimmy Jin eventually nodded their heads in agreement.

* * *

The day started off very well. Beca had the unusual smile on her face when she greeted her boss in the morning, and the redhead would giggle and blush just by looking at the sight of it. Honestly, mornings were never been this exciting. Who wouldn't want to wake up with that? Breakfast was also extra special with an extra special meal – delicious cute little pancakes in the shape of various emoticons prepared by the brunette herself. Even Aubrey had a plateful of serving to eat before heading to her own schedule for the day.

The ride to the studio, afterwards, for a talk show was just another part of the unexpected fairytale. Chloe sat on the front passenger seat while she sang along to every song on the radio with Beca looking so amused and not at all irritated unlike the first time they met. The only time that they had to stay at a considerable distance away from each other was during the taping while the heiress, of course, had to sit on the couch across the talk show host while her bodyguard stayed in support among the rest of the television crew.

"_So Stan kissed the blonde bitch on her cheek. He kissed me on the cheek, too! It's just a tie, right?"_

However, Fat Amy's partner in crime wasn't even listening at all. The brunette was too busy staring at her boss laughing at the host's stupid jokes. They're not even amusing. Then, from out of the blue, a pair of hands held the brunette tightly by the arms.

"You might want to tell the Australian whale to turn off the device for a while," Beca heard a familiar voice whispered into her ear. It was lustful, amorous, and tempting as always.

"_Is that Stacie? What the fuck is that slut doing there?"_

Same question in Beca's mind. She turned around to see the tall brunette smiling at her suggestively.

"What are you doing here?"

Stacie immediately wrapped her arms around her fuck buddy's neck followed by a peck and a pleasurable lick on Beca's right ear.

"I miss you, Beca."

Okay, some of the television crew was already distracted and glaring at the pair.

"I'm working," was Beca's only excuse.

"And it's time for you to take a break."

The uninvited guest showered kisses on Beca's neck making soft moans in the process. One of the cameramen made a big gulp and tried so hard not to stare. No porn during working hours! The shorter woman though was not delighted keeping the blank expression on her face.

"_Uh… J-Just text me when you two are done. Well...h-have fun."_

"I can show you the nearest restroom," Stacie offered as soon as the device had disconnected.

Beca supposed to be was already eagerly responding back to the sexual advances. Instead, she reached for the pair of hands around her neck and backed away.

"What's the matter?" questioned the other, totally confused. "Everybody expects that we do it 'cause that's what we always do. Otherwise, there has to be something wrong with you. Wait, is there something wrong? I mean, you can't be committed to anybody else, right?"

"My boss is here."

Stacie subsequently looked around as if looking for someone in particular, and then shook her head as she returned her gaze to the daunting beast.

"I don't see _Phil_ around here. Besides, I think he's in Russia right now. Well, you don't mean the redhead, do you? It's just a mission. Everything about it is not real. You're a Phoenix, not just some bodyguard. And you can't be rejecting a fellow Phoenix for an enemy's daughter, Beca. "

The context of the whole statement was a threat in itself. The implication of it, no doubt, spelled out trouble. Stacie was right. Supposedly, between the two of them, Beca _must _never choose the redhead. Responding to the curiosity in all too honesty would entail a treacherous direction. Hence, there was only one answer to it. Beca let out a long deep sigh, grabbed Stacie's hand, and dragged her to the nearest restroom.

* * *

"That was really good," Stacie muttered after putting her blouse back on, looking over at the quiet cricket through the mirror.

Beca, as a response, let out an uncaring huff not even bothering to glance at the other woman. She picked up the discarded black leather jacket on the floor, dusted it off, and wore it back on. She slid her feet on the pair of black boots, shook her hair into place, and sighed.

"I miss you, Beca."

"I heard you the first time," was the other's cold reply.

The taller woman turned around to face that person who can only break her already broken heart. It's been years of this routine, this arrangement, and still, the scene after the show never changed. She would still feel used and devalued. She would still look worse than some cheap prostitute. In spite of that, at the end of it, she would still desperately beg for some affection.

"I've changed my mind," she told the cold-blooded creature. "Forget about the things I said last time. Forget about the cuddling, or kissing, or touching, or loving me back. I-I just want you to stay. I just really want you to stay with me, Beca."

"I can't."

"I'll do everything you want me to."

"You're already doing everything I want you to."

"Look, you don't have to do anything or say anything. You don't have to act like my girlfriend. We don't have to put a label on this relationship. You just… you just stay with me like you at least care about me."

Beca simply stared back because she didn't know how to respond to that.

"You don't have to love me back," Stacie added into her proposal. "I can do all the loving part, you can do all the fucking part; hell I don't care. Just be _mine. _Be mine, Beca. _Please._"

Still, the other brunette would not say a word.

"I'm trying to get in, but you won't let me. I invite you in, but you won't come. Tell me what I need to do for you to at least give a shit."

"You're letting me fuck you, that's it."

"Beca, do you know how much I love you?" Stacie asked, her tears were already welling up in her eyes. A few more seconds, and they were all racing down her cheeks.

Suddenly, the horrible monster had to care. Looking at Stacie's current state felt like looking at Chloe who was constantly taken for granted by a douchebag. That little speech from the redhead during that quick alone time at the Posen's garden played back in her mind. _Stop being such a Tom to her._ The feeling of throwing yourself at somebody who wouldn't bother to catch you and the feeling of giving your heart to someone who keeps on insensitively breaking it into pieces – it's hopeless and fucking hurts so much. The entire concept was back in her head.

"I have no idea how much you love me," Beca slowly shook her head apologetically. "But I certainly know that you do, Stacie."

It was Stacie's turn to be speechless. Beca Mitchell never talked to her like this. Stacie had never seen this horrible monster talk like this.

"And I'm sorry but I just can't do what you ask me to do. I can't cuddle up every after sex. No, I can't look into your eyes then kiss you on the lips. I just can't."

"You kissed her," Stacie finally confessed what she already knew surprising the other.

"It's not-"

"I saw you kissed her!"

And Beca simply had to shut her mouth in surrender. There was no point of defending it anymore.

"I saw everything, Beca… the way you looked at her, the way you held her, the way you pressed your lips against hers. Do you know that I would trade a thousand fucks for a single chance to have that moment with you?"

It was bad. Really bad. This conversation wasn't part of any plan.

"So why her? Why not me, Beca?" desperately inquired the tall woman. "What could have she possibly done that made the cold-blooded, heartless Beca Mitchell forget about every little shit she believed in?"

Remaining silent was the initial option, but the look on Stacie's face told that she was going to wait for a damn answer no matter how long it would take. No one was going to leave the damn restroom until she would get the fucking answers to her questions. So Beca Mitchell took a deep breath and helplessly shrugged her shoulders.

"Nothing," she answered in all honesty. "She did nothing, Stacie."

Stacie quickly rushed to Beca holding her arms, her face, her hair, anything she could hold on to just to keep the shorter brunette into place so she'd listen.

"Can't you see she's changing you?" she tried to make a point. "Beca, she's turning you into someone you're not. She's putting you into some kind of a spell where you don't belong. I would never do that to you. I love you just the way you are. So not even once, I would never try to change anything about you."

Beca sighed, grabbed the hands and deliberately moved them away from her. She looked into Stacie's eyes and unfortunately shook her head.

"Maybe that's it, Stacie. Maybe that's the answer you've always been looking for. Maybe that's the reason why, not even once… I can never love you back."

Another tear rolled down her cheek as Stacie froze into place – the combined feelings of shock, hurt, betrayed, and dead among others burst out inside her. Most of the time, she used to wish that Beca would actually talk to her after having sex because the silent treatment stung like hell. Turned out, a talking Beca could hurt even more than the speechless one. It felt like being slowly slashed into a hundred tiny pieces.

"Beca?"

The atmosphere in the room was too nerve-racking that neither of the two bothered to hear the sound of the door creaked open. The pair of brunettes turned around to see the one and only Chloe Beale standing right at the door, surprised and confused with the scene she found.

"I-I'm sorry," she stammered when she recognized the tears on the stranger's face. She could be stupid, but she definitely understand the kind of situation she just walked into. This must be Stacie. _The _Stacie. "I-I was just looking for Beca… I didn't mean to interrupt or anything."

Stacie hurriedly wiped her tears off and hid her broken heart behind a fake smile. Beca, on the other hand, spoke no word. She simply stared at the redhead. The bodyguard quietly stood in the middle of all the awkwardness secretly wishing that Chloe would say more. If only the typically insecure heiress would just raise her head up in full confidence, look at Stacie proudly, and just tell the other woman that Chloe Beale had won. Just declare to nobody in particular that Chloe Beale had already won Beca's heart. But instead, the redhead uncomfortably hugged herself for a brief moment – she didn't even glance at the bodyguard – before completely running away. Beca knew she should have ran after her, hugged her, and kissed her until the redhead would finally realize that she was the chosen one. However, the brunette didn't. She didn't move at all. Why? It was the first day of the _dying_ process. It was the first day of letting her go. And frankly, it felt worse than any slasher movie in history.

* * *

_Okay, I know they just started getting along very well. But I had to do it, and of course, you don't expect Stacie to handle the situation in a good light. So please don't hate me._

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Pitch Perfect.


	16. Surrender

**_PitchPerfectLover: _**_Truth be, I'm always looking forward to writing Stacie. I think she always turn the chapter extra interesting._

**_avidreader:_**_ I guess that's how I've always wanted to portray Stacie's character. Typically, the 'other woman' has almost always perceived as the bad guy, but I wanted to show that she, too, has her own story to be considered._

**_Guest_**_ (the one with a suggestion): Thanks for the idea because I haven't really thought about the ending yet. We'll see how it goes. :)_

**_PurpleWedding: _**_BeChloe and GOT, we're totally on the same boat, dear!_

**_wrrrby:_**_ I needed to make the date somewhat special. You know, it's a date! Finally! But then, of course, I think it wouldn't be right if they get a happy ending just like that._

**_Guest_**_ (the crying one), **RobOverstreet, writting is love**: Personally, I think it adds more agony and torture when you are fully aware that there's a countdown. It's like consciously trying to make every moment worth to be cherished. Okay, I'm cruel. I'm sorry. LOL._

**_cxcxcx386:_**_ No offense, but I'm kind of not used to you being speechless. :) And something tells me we're on the same timezone, am I right?_

**_Lackluster__ Brilliance:_**_ Welcome to this rollercoaster ride! :) I'm sorry it took you a while to read the story. Sometimes, I get fed up reading 'long' chapters, but I hope I don't lose you for that. I love Chloe's character, too! :)_

**_madness2013, lauwer:_**_ I'm sorry if I'm being such a Tom. This is for the common good, people. LOL._

**_airdr12:_**_ Your review for both chapters is very much appreciated. Little Maverick is indeed freakishly cute and adorable I just want to pinch his cheeks if only I could. And thank you for your ideas. One story at a time though, dear. :)_

**_MysticFalls94: _**_You made so much sense, don't worry. Sometimes I actually fear that you, guys, would get so fed up with the story because it's kind of deprived from real happy moments (now does that make sense?). About Stacie, remember in Chapter 10 when Phil gave her a special mission? That's what she's been up to. Hence, witnessing the kiss._

**_BeChloeFan01:_**_ Levi Weaver?! Levi Weaver?! God, if it isn't too inappropriate and too creepy, I'd ask you to marry me now. I don't even care if you're a dude or a chick. I fucking love Levi Weaver! And I've never met anyone else who listens to him in a regular basis. Your BFF request is super accepted! Now I'm just babbling... Everything Collide album indeed! God, we're practically twins or soulmates - whatever works. :)_

**_Moxain: _**_Here's more..._

**_Kwtwix_**_ (Review on Chapter 14): Well, that's her primary role in this story. :)_

_Now on this chapter... Okay, so maybe this wasn't the way I originally intended it to be, and I can't really tell if the chapter actually turned out better or worse than how I initially pictured it... I guess I'll just have to let you, guys, be the judge to that. So read on! :)_

* * *

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: **Surrender**

Blue wiped off the beads of sweat crawling down all over his face and even on the surface of his bald head before going back to his strenuous job of thrusting his shovel into the ground and lifting off the unwanted element. It's been almost an hour of digging out here and there at the backyard of Smolensk's Cathedral of the Assumption, and nothing was found but dirt. He briefly looked over at his partner in crime, Red, and was relieved to see the same picture of hopelessness and exhaustion on his face. At least he wasn't the only one. A bowl of hot soup, a bottle of water, and a decent sleep – those were the only things they truly cherished at the moment yet so out of their reach. However, the loud shout booming out of Phil Mitchell's mouth told them to move and super fast.

"_Nobody_ is going to stop until you find something essential! So come on, people! Move, move, move!"

Blue took a deep breath and hoped for the best that his brief moment of surrender would pass by unnoticed. He gripped on his shovel tighter than the previous instance in fear that it might _accidentally _slip away, and then thrust it once more into the ground. _Clunk. _He froze into place, and so did Red who gave him a look immediately. Clearly, the shovel came in contact with something, but the particular sound suggested it wasn't soil. It could be a rock. But no, it was different.

"What are you two idiots still doing? Pull it out from there!" Phil ordered as he walked towards the pair of bald men.

Blue and Red hurriedly cleared the surrounding area with their shovels until they could finally pull the thing out in a struggle even with the help of the rest of the team. A vault. Indeed, it was another vault, and it looked exactly like the one they found in Saint Petersburg.

"Swanson, the passcode," the Head demanded.

_"4-1-7-2-4-5."_

Phil carefully punched in the numbers while he listened to Jesse through the earpiece as the young man slowly dictated the passcode specifically provided in the map for the destination. The three tiny lights attached to the electronic lock simultaneously flashed green signifying that the code was in fact correct. The oldest Mitchell automatically turned the knob to open, and for the second time that day, he was looking right into a vault filled with cash – again, twenty plastic packets each containing ten bundles of $100 bills were neatly stockpiled inside the vault just like the first one they had found in Saint Petersburg earlier that same day. Looking at it, it had to amount to another twenty million dollars doubling the sum of money they already had.

The Phoenixes rejoiced, dropped their respective shovels on the ground, raised their victorious fists up in the air, and freely hugged their nearest comrades – the feelings of hunger and fatigued were suddenly forgotten in the middle of the celebration. Jesse himself was also celebrating in his own way back at the Pandemonium. Their leader, on the other hand, remained quiet and unsatisfied. It wasn't enough. Phil knew that what they had found still wasn't enough.

* * *

"I don't know what happened, but I know there's something wrong."

Beca bravely stared back at the evil glare Aubrey Posen was intently throwing at her direction. The brunette did not bother to sharpen her eyes anymore as she would normally do because she knew she deserved the hate anyway.

_"What is going on, Beca?"_

The woman in question let out a small huff as she briefly looked away to at least let her Australian partner in crime know that she had totally messed up in general. Besides, there were just no words to explain what happened the day before. The situation would speak for itself already, and nothing would change the fact that Beca was the bad guy in all of this. But if you look at it in all honesty, it was so unfair.

Everybody would always talk about the feeling of loving somebody with all your heart and soul only to end up getting heartbroken because that one single person just wouldn't love you back; it could feel so fucking hopeless and fucking painful. But come to think of it, nobody asked the other person what she actually felt. Nobody ever wondered what it felt like to try to love somebody back only to stop yourself along the way either because the feelings simply weren't there or the entire thing was far too dangerous to pursue. If you ask Beca, it felt just as fucking hopeless and fucking painful.

"I have no right to impose on you what to feel about my best friend," Aubrey continued, trying so hard to maintain her calm voice. "It's just between you and Chloe, and it doesn't include me. But if you want my honest opinion on this, I would really love to see you two work it out. It's not because I have a big crush on your brother. It's just that I've never seen her so happy with anybody else."

Beca sighed again, wordless, in response. Aubrey just sounded so sincere, how would you tell her that it was doomsday right at the very beginning?

"I have an appointment with my dad today, so I'll see you and Chloe for dinner, understand?"

The brunette slowly nodded her head for compliance.

"Now go in and do your bodyguard thing," the Posen heiress ordered nodding her head towards the door to the Piano Room.

Beca walked towards the door, took a deep breath, and then turned the knob to open. She pushed the door as silently as possible and the sound of a euphonious music became louder and clearer than the previous muffled version. She quietly closed the door then stood in her post watching the musician in complete awe. There was Chloe mindlessly playing the classic piece of _Claude Debussy's_ _Clair de Lune_ on the pink-colored grand piano. The sight of the bright-colored instrument almost made the quiet cricket smile, but the tune banned her from doing so. The song was beautiful yet unfortunately sounded so sad. So even through that blank canvass, a frown was still discernible on her face.

"What are you doing?"

The soft piano music was immediately replaced by Chloe's cold monotonous voice as soon as the young heiress stopped her delicate fingers from pressing on the keys. Startled by the sudden halt followed by an awkward silence, the bodyguard opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out unfortunately. For the record, it wasn't intentional at all.

"I told you I _hate_ silent treatments."

Chloe's voice was firm and intimidating it was _almost_ scary. Seemed like for once, she was finally learning how to stay mad at someone or maybe the skill was only exclusive for such particular moment at one particular person named Beca Branson.

_"Sounds like you're in big trouble. What did you do?"_

"I instructed Kimmy Jin that I don't want to be disturbed," the redhead spoke once more when the unwanted guest still wouldn't say anything at all.

Even Beca who normally felt at home in a kingdom of don't-give-any-shit could no longer bear the unusual attitude demonstrated by the typically cheerful and friendly person in the form of Chloe Beale.

"I am to stay with you all the time, 24/7 in fact," she courageously told the redhead who, by the way, never took the time off to turn to look at her only audience. "It's… my job."

Slowly shaking her head, Chloe laughed as if the statement was one hilarious joke in contrast to the straight face displayed by her bodyguard. It probably took a whole two minutes to let the punch line completely wear off.

_"Is Chloe alright? Just what the hell did you do to her again?"_

Beca hoped it was that easy to explain everything to Fat Amy, and so maybe the smart blonde could have coached her on how to get through this messy part of the special mission.

"Job," mumbled the redhead in further contemplation. "Honestly, sometimes- no, majority of the time, I forget that you're actually here to do a certain job. Maybe I should have reminded myself about that more often. Or better, I should have wished that you weren't so perfect at doing your job. You know, staying with me all the time, 24/7 in fact. Then, we could have saved a lot of wasted time and efforts, broken hearts and heartbroken tears."

"I'm sorry," said Beca. She was definitely getting better at apologies.

Finally, the young heiress directed her eyes towards the brunette. Her angelic face aimed to portray a fearless and such uncaring image, but the pair of bright blue eyes was too soft it only reflected a lonely soul.

"Why are you apologizing, Beca?" she questioned. "I'm just your boss. And you're doing great with your job, I couldn't ask for more."

Beca let out a long frustrated sigh. _Boss._ Yeah, that's the definition of this relationship. What the fuck is _'more than a friend, less than a lover' _status? At the end of the day, Chloe Beale was still _just_ her boss. It's only the second day of a three-day process, and the redheaded monster was already slipping away from the daunting beast.

_"For the last time, what did you do, Mitchell?"_

"I'd kill for you. I'd die for you," she vowed because it was in fact the whole truth.

But the other simply nodded her head, "I know. I read your contract. It's part of the job description."

"Do you want me to stay outside?" asked Beca from out of the blue. The warm welcome was evidently absent in the atmosphere anyway.

The heiress fixed a stare at the brunette for who knew how long. It's as if she was picking up all the pieces from Beca's face so she could put them all together and figure out the next thing to say or do.

"Fuck," she finally breathed out then sighed in remorse dropping her gaze down to the piano keys.

_"It's Stacie, isn't it? I've always known that slut spells out trouble."_

Funny how Fat Amy was able to guess everything right from a very single obscene word.

"I'm trying to stay mad at you," the redhead admitted, afraid to meet the other in the eye. "At least, I want to act like I don't care."

"And you were doing so well. Truth."

Keeping her head bowed down, Chloe muttered, "I've always been so insecure, and scared of almost everything, but I have _never _been the jealous type… until yesterday. Truth."

Funny how Stacie had the sex but wanted the kiss while Chloe had the kiss but wanted the sex - people could feel so much in despair for being dissatisfied with what they already have.

"I'd rather listen to you sing," Beca assured. "Truth."

_"Singing over sex? Wow. What happened to you, mate?"_

The brunette instantly wondered what would Phil think when he reads the transcription. Would he be as shocked as Fat Amy or just as amused as Chloe? Meanwhile, the redhead surprisingly let out a small chuckle at the comparison, and so Beca eyed the pink grand piano encouraging the other to actually sing. Taking the hint, Chloe took a deep breath and stared at her fingers over the piano keys. What to play? What to sing? Without even realizing, her fingers started moving, playing the right chords, producing a sweet melody.

"All along it was a fever  
A cold sweat hot-headed believer  
I threw my hands in the air, said, 'Show me something'  
He said, 'If you dare come a little closer.'  
Round and around and around and around we go  
Oh now, tell me now, tell me now, tell me now you know."

"Not really sure how to feel about it.  
Something in the way you move  
Makes me feel like I can't live without you.  
It takes me all the way.  
I want you to stay."

Chloe would glance at Beca once in a while, and so the brunette would try to put on a little smile each time. Even Fat Amy was audibly swooning as she listened, too. If only we could freeze the moment, and live in it forever. If we could all just forget about the _'round and around'_, stop at _'I want you to stay'_ then freeze right there. Just like that. Unfortunately, the redhead kept playing and so the song of melancholy went on.

"It's not much of a life you're living  
It's not just something you take – it's given  
Round and around and around and around we go  
Oh now, tell me now, tell me now, tell me now you know."

"Not really sure how to feel about it.  
Something in the way you move  
Makes me feel like I can't live without you.  
It takes me all the way.  
I want you to stay."

One day. Just one more day left, and then all of this would be over. Here was Chloe openly singing a song about wanting this certain person to stay with her and here was Beca secretly preparing all her might to leave everything behind afterwards. Stacie was right. It's just a mission. Everything about it was a lie. If only everybody had never forgotten to keep that in mind even for a second, it would have been easier to say goodbye. Maybe nobody would not even have to do that. It would have been easier to just walk away willingly.

"Ooh, ooh, ooh, the reason I hold on  
Ooh, ooh, ooh, 'cause I need this hole gone  
Funny you're the broken one but I'm the only one who needed saving  
'Cause when you never see the light it's hard to know which one of us is caving."

"Not really sure how to feel about it.  
Something in the way you move  
Makes me feel like I can't live without you.  
It takes me all the way.  
I want you to stay, stay.  
I want you to stay, oh."

That last chord echoed within the vicinity of the room as Chloe looked up to meet those dark blue orbs. Beca couldn't remember how – did she walk or actually teleport – she was already standing by the piano and so much closer to the redhead than she previously was. The heiress wore a proud smile on her lips which suddenly disappeared when the other still had that strange sense of seriousness painted across her face. Chloe vacated her seat to stand and face the brunette, but still, the quiet cricket simply followed carefully with her eyes.

"Is there something wrong?" asked the redhead.

To say 'nothing' could have been an option. Beca, however, knew that Chloe would immediately figure out the truth in that, so instead, the enemy-in-disguise reached out and enveloped the stunned woman in a tight embrace. This way, she wouldn't have to say a word to explain. Chloe _should_ already know what it meant. But for the sake of Fat Amy, Phil, and the rest of The Secret Society, fine, she would give them a satisfactory answer to put into their stupid transcript of conversations.

"If you ever question how much you mean to me, I swear the only answer to that is 'nothing'... Truth."

But Chloe Beale knew it was just a big fat lie.

* * *

Jesse dragged himself through the _No Unauthorized Person Allowed _door, rubbed his eyes awake as he made his way towards the only occupied booth in the nocturnal establishment that was the Pandemonium, and finally slumped into the space across Stan and Fat Amy. His friends silently peered at him pausing from savoring their lunch meal. The fatigued man ignored the two pair of scrutinizing eyes set right on him, reached out for Stan's plate then started consuming its contents absentmindedly.

"My, where the hell did those eye bags come from?" Fat Amy asked in full disgust. "You look hideous, my friend."

The brunet stopped for a moment from clumsily slicing the steak, dropped the knife, and raised a middle finger to show to his blonde counterpart matching the dagger look on his pair of eyes.

"Have you actually slept, Jesse?" questioned Stan out of curiosity and concern.

Jesse casually shook his head in response before digging his spoon into the small mountain of mashed potato. His friends exchanged looks – Stan to silently express his worry for the troubled friend and Fat Amy to have the chance to feed the young Mitchell in spite of his minor protests.

"There has to be good news somewhere along that face after all," he said after taking a big gulp of his soda.

The IT expert tried to speak in between his hungry chews, "Four destinations down, one more to go. They're on their way to Podolsk now."

"And the treasure?"

"$80,000,000," Jesse answered. "So far, that's what we have. If they find another vault in Podolsk tonight with the same amount then we'll have a hundred million all in all."

"Enough to keep a number of operations in some of our chapters running for the meantime," Stan concluded.

"It's just the second day," realized Fat Amy. "Does it mean we can have Beca back by tomorrow?"

Jesse positively nodded his head as he picked up a piece of Buffalo wings from the basket with his bare hands - best way to eat Buffalo wings. He carelessly grinded on the meat; every big bite ended with a loud exhale to ease the burning sensation creeping into his body. Then from out of the blue, he splatted a hand with fingers coated with Cayenne pepper hot sauce on his forehead.

"Fuck my fuzzy brain," he looked over at Stan. "If they find the final vault, they'll take a flight home tomorrow. Before I forget, you'll have to lead a team to escort them from the airport to Pandemonium. There's going to be a lot of money with them to be secured."

"Okay," the young Mitchell muttered back in agreement, but his mind was flying away somewhere else. Phil was so close to his treasure. And so what's next after this treasure hunt? He stared at Jesse and wondered if the guy was still on the same boat with him. He couldn't ask him in such condition though. Stan would have to wait for the perfect time for it.

"This thing is really spicy," the brunet IT expert dropped his second wing to wear off his jacket, and then wiped off the small beads of sweat courtesy of the physical heat, in the process, spreading more hot sauce all over his face. "This is much better than coffee."

"What's that?" Fat Amy inquired pointing her index finger at Jesse's then exposed right forearm.

Stan also directed his gaze on the surface and tried to make sense out of the numbers scribbled in tiny prints on the skin. They were five set of numbers arranged in a vertical list. Interesting it was.

_79455  
417245  
556644572  
417272457374  
7068496. _

"You haven't taken a bath in days," he supposed at the sight of blank ink fading away through time.

"That explains the shitty smell around here," Fat Amy shuddered in disgust.

"These are _passcodes_ to the vaults," Jesse explained proudly. "They're far too important to be written on a piece of paper. With my current mental state, I could lose them without even realizing. And we don't want them to end up to anybody else's hands."

The blonde chick teased, "With your current mental state, you're talking too much."

"Passcodes?" Stan furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "That's weird. I have never seen a series of passcodes like that. I mean, I'm no expert in this, but… I don't know, it's just pretty weird for me. Have you tried looking into it furthermore anyway?"

The brunet IT expert suddenly stopped. He started clearing the smudge away from his thoughts and forced his brain to actually comprehend the idea. _Passcodes, weird_. _Weird passcodes. _That should have automatically been translated to _suspicious_, but honestly, he never thought of it. They were presented with a treasure map, they found a vault, the each passcode provided by the map worked, and so they would move on to the next. Without a single question. So just when he thought everything was going so well and he would finally impress Phil, Jesse felt this sudden apprehension and doubt drowning him into an ocean of theories. The beeping sound of his watch eventually brought him back to his senses.

"I have to go," he quickly grabbed his discarded jacket, forget about the unfinished meal and the unclean fingers and the face practically covered with hot sauce, and then hastily lifted himself up to leave.

Stan immediately tossed a table napkin at his bewildered friend before Jesse could get away completely, "You have… _something_ on your face by the way, man."

* * *

It's the third day, the last day. It was four o'clock in the morning, Beca stood wide awake by her sleeping boss' bed. By this time, in Moscow with an eight-hour ahead difference, Phil and the rest of his team must be on their way to the airport for their flight back to the United States. The last vault was successfully found earlier than what was originally planned, unfortunately. Therefore, the new plan here then was to simply leave the Beale manor before sunrise in order to skip the unnecessary goodbyes and mandatory excuses. Most of all, it's the last stage of the dying process.

_"Stan is on his way. The hallways are all clear. Most of the guards are either in their quarters or in the lounge. You can go at my signal."_

Beca listened to Fat Amy's briefing instructions, but none of it actually sunk into her brain. All that was flashing in her mind over and over was the fact that the love of her life was right there just within her reach but then in a few more minutes, all of these lies and deceptions and pretenses would soon come to an expected ending. Afterwards, Chloe Beale would perpetually be nothing but an impossible dream.

_"Five minutes."_

The brunette let out a deep sigh as she took one last look at the sleeping redhead, and then turned her heels around to head for the door. Dragging her feet away from the bed as slowly as possible, every step felt so heavy in reluctance. Every step was sentimentally cherished for one last memory. Never mind that each of them constituted aching heartbeats and prolonged agony. It honestly felt like walking on a tightrope where Beca was higher to fall than she'd ever been – it was difficult to start with, but it was the only way to move on.

"Beca?"

Beca stopped at her tracks when the sound of Chloe's sleepy voice echoed in the stillness of dusk.

_"She's awake? She can't be awake, Beca! I told you this would be a bad idea! She'll probably stop you when she finds out!"_

"What are you doing this early?" the redhead asked checking the time on her pink _Hello Kitty _digital clock sitting on the bedside table. "It's only past four in the morning."

The quiet cricket remained in place, but decided not to turn around and look back. If she did, she knew that she would have to regret it later on.

_"Tell her to go back to sleep."_

"Go back to sleep," she muttered as coached while keeping her eyes on the sought after door. Damn it. So close. She was almost there. Almost.

"I have a better idea," Chloe excitedly kicked the blanket off of her body and comfortably sat up on the bed in an Indian style. "Come here."

_"Great, now she can't sleep." _

Left really with no other choice, Beca turned around to witness the glint of bright blue eyes happily staring back at her. That's it. She was drawn to the temptation all over again. She found herself marching back to where she used to stand then took a seat at the side of the bed. She fixed an eye on the angelic face through the dark desperately trying to memorize every little detail of it, every little detail so that it would look as realistic as it could be when she would try to remember.

_"Three minutes, Beca."_

"You're staring at me again," Chloe noticed.

Beca only shifted her gaze on that pair of lips barely moving in a faint whisper. She would have to memorize them, too. It was probably creepy already, but the memory of it could be the only souvenir she could bring with her as she leaves.

_"No, no, no! No more staring, Mitchell. Just get your ass out of there, and leave!"_

"I've been thinking," the redhead started but paused immediately unsure of what to say anymore. "You know, when my dad comes back… I don't know. I-I think… maybe w-we… uh…"

_"Two minutes."_

If only Fat Amy would shut her mouth. Yeah, two minutes. That's all they had left – two minutes. It's the last two minutes, the last chance to do what had to be done and to say what had to be spoken out loud. Despite of that, Beca spent every second just staring at the redheaded monster's face breathing all in before the inevitable lockdown.

_ "Sixty fucking seconds."_

"I'm sorry," the brunette croaked and silence soon fell in the air. Chloe had this puzzled look on her face while Fat Amy herself couldn't tell as well if the message was actually addressed to her or maybe it was for the redheaded monster.

The timer on the laptop screen had ultimately run out, none of them spoke a word nor breathe out. Never mind that Stan surely had parked the gray Aston Martin Volante at the meeting place already to fetch his sister as planned. This was the moment that the predictable regret was emerging out into the situation. Beca had pushed herself towards the redhead and kissed her as the rest of the world faded out around them. Who were we kidding? The mighty Phoenix just didn't want to go. Even Fat Amy could simply let out a sigh in surrender. There's just no more stopping this pair of little rascals who were stupidly and crazily in love with each other.

The brunette gently pinned Chloe down on the bed while the other struggled to slide down the zipper of the black leather jacket. Beca used her hands to prop her body up as the redheaded monster wrapped her arms around her neck to keep the head into place, the truculence of tongue war preserved all the way through. Before long, Chloe coordinatingly volunteered to get rid of the stupid leather jacket finally, and the plaque of gratitude she received for it was a trail of sweet kisses from her lips down to her neck. The expert one, with one hand, eagerly searched for and began unbuttoning the pink sleep shirt tugging the ends aside later on to reveal more skin so that she could extend the trail a little furthermore than the prominent collar bone. Chloe quivered a little at the touch of Beca's cold hand upon her flat stomach, but as an apology, the brunette nibbled and sucked and licked on her hips sending a current of delight all over her body. No wonder an instinctive moan escaped from her mouth.

Chloe's delicate hands eventually summoned the sex machine, and so with the same patient pace, the brunette drew the exact same trail of kisses back up until she had reached the pair of lips yearningly waiting for hers to return. In the right combination of gentleness and aggression, Beca kissed the redhead as if it was the last night of their lives. And then the way Chloe friskily ran her fingers through those messy brown locks implied just how much she wanted this accidental moment, too.

However, before they could go on beyond that determining point, both stopped and stared at each other for a while. Just pitched in a little pause, a short break – perhaps, to catch their breaths and just get drown in the pool of blue lagoons. Chloe giggled in amusement at the rare sight of this scene. She was lying on her back, half naked on her bed with her female bodyguard hanging on top of her. Never in a million years did she picture this image to come into reality, not to mention the horrible monster was also sporting a small smile on her lips. Really, it would have been hilarious if Aubrey Posen would walk in on them caught up in such sexual position. Would it still sound hilarious though if she ever finds out that Fat Amy had been listening to their pleasured moans and gasps the whole time?

"You're beautiful," Beca whispered as she slowly tucked some loose red locks behind the redhead's ear, and then ended up staring back at those bright blue eyes once more.

Chloe chewed on her lower lip for a brief moment before resting her hands on the brunette's cheeks. She raised herself up a little to peck on those lips smiling down at her, looked straight into Beca's eyes, and sincerely said, "I love you. I love you, Beca Branson."

In a split second, the glow on Beca's face disappeared, and the rest of the world came crawling back to consciousness. _Branson_. One fake name mentioned, and the Phoenix was suddenly reminded that it was nothing more but a lie. Suddenly, every reason why she _had_ to leave eroded that single reason why she _wanted_ to stay.

_"Branson's time was up ten minutes ago."_

The fact that Beca still had the earpiece hidden in her left ear meant that she was still sworn to a code in which Chloe Beale was an off-limits. So gathering what remained of her senses, the brunette started buttoning up the pink sleep shirt stirring a cloud of confusion on the redhead's part.

"What are you doing?" she questioned in panic. "Did I say something wrong?"

But Beca was back to being a quiet cricket, and as soon as she was finished with covering up the heiress' exposed body once again, she pushed herself up to wear her black leather jacket as if nothing actually happened. Surprisingly, she realized the scene seemed like another after sex with Stacie only it was Chloe, the only person she had ever loved, who would have to get heartbroken at the end of it.

_"Something tells me that I don't want to hear the rest of this conversation."_

"Wait!" Chloe hurriedly ran after her when the brunette was obviously heading towards the door to exit the room. She stood in front of Beca blocking the way, and frowned as she waited for a reasonable explanation for the sudden unwanted twist of events. However, the quiet cricket was back at giving out blank wordless stares as a response, and so the young heiress firmly shook her head in disapproval. "No. You're not giving me the silent treatment now. Not today, Beca. I asked you a question, and you're going to give me a proper and sufficient answer to it."

Still, the brunette wouldn't speak out a damn word.

In desperation, the redhead began undoing her shirt – to go on with what could have been the most memorable moment in her life – only to be restrained by the horrible monster right after the first button.

"You don't have to do that," Beca promised.

"But I want to," argued the other shrugging off the hands upon her hands. "I want to be everything you want, Beca."

If Chloe could only understand that she was already everything Beca _needed_.

"If Jesse has a list of women who could satisfy you, then I want to be one of them."

She was never one of them. Chloe Beale was exceptionally one and only.

"You've been _fucking _all these people, why won't you do it with me?"

Because she was too damn precious the only suitable thing to do with her would be to make love.

_"Just fucking tell her something, Mitchell."_

"I'm trying to do my job," Beca replied the first thing that came to mind. She meant the job provided by The Secret Society though, not the bodyguard job.

But, of course, Chloe didn't know about that. So looking away from the face of the person who kept on playing with her emotions, she blinked some tears off her eyes because it was just so fucking frustrating already.

"You're fired," she muttered shocking the brunette. It was like hearing her say goodbye. "I'm firing you right this very moment, and my father is not here to save your ass this time."

_"Excellent. Another reason for you to leave. Come on, Beca."_

"Why?" questioned the former bodyguard because there has to be a sensible reason behind that sudden decision, and she needed to know. If she was no longer wanted, at least she had to know why.

"Because I'm sick of that stupid excuse of yours. From now on, if you do a good deed for me, I won't have to rack my brain deliberating whether or not it's all just because of the fact that you're being paid to do it. And if you happen to hurt me… I'd know that it was out of your own personal volition."

Beca silently watched the tears rolled down on the redhead's face then nodded her head in understanding. Unfortunately, she still would have to go. And with that new terms and conditions, she knew it would hurt Chloe even more.

"I'm leaving."

_"Finally!"_

The stream of tears became waterfall and that little hope for something was burned into ashes all at once. Chloe lowered her gaze for a moment to internalize what was happening until she could bravely looked back at Beca's face once again.

"Could you... at least prove to me... one last time... that you are still what I think you are?" she demanded in between her sobs.

_The best liar in town_, that's it.

The former bodyguard let the time past by just staring at the angelic face unfortunately then tainted with tears. Staying instead of leaving would have been the best proof, but it wasn't an option. So, in all seriousness, she said, "I'm still _not _calling dibs on you."

Chloe couldn't help but let out a chuckle for that. Well, we all know what happened from there.

So for one last time, the brunette moved closer to plant one last sweet and gentle and romantic kiss on Chloe's lips. And when she opened her eyes later on, the first thing she saw was the sight of content in its purest form conveyed by the small gleam across the redhead's face. It was then that Beca realized it was the most suitable time to leave. It was already a beautiful goodbye right then and there – the very aim of this three-day dying process. Henceforth, without any more hesitation, she deliberately walked past the love of her life then headed out the door to the hallway to proceed with her delayed exit. This time, she didn't look back anymore. Chloe heard the door shut, and that was it.

Simply, it was the perfect concluding song for a sad movie - a subtle acceptance amidst the slight refusal to let go, and then a bittersweet farewell to a beautiful love that was never meant to be.

* * *

The xylophone ringtone went off for the fourth consecutive time since they left the hotel. Red frenziedly dug his hands into the backpack searching through its many contents for that stupid phone that just would not shut up for once. Without even turning to look, he could already feel the intimidating infuriated stare directed right towards him by his impatient boss seated at the back of the car.

"Finally," the bald man muttered under his breath when the damn phone ultimately came in contact with his hand. He hurriedly fished it out from the bag and handed it over. "Here it is, boss."

Phil let his stare lingered for a moment more before answering the call, "Yes, Jesse, we're on our way to the airport already. Calm your balls, kid."

_"You are under arrest, Phil!"_

Startled, the old man was not able to give an immediate respond to the unfamiliar statement except from his distorted facial expression to illustrate his great confusion. Jesse seemed to be in a state of hysterical panic with such hurried speech and heavy breathing.

"What?" the superior Phoenix croaked.

_ "You have to get out of there, sir! Now! It's a trap!"_

"What the fuck are you saying, Swanson?"

Jesse didn't even have to finish the rest of the sentence. Still trying to sound loud and clear as he simultaneously tried to catch his breath, in the quickest manner he possible could, the IT expert explained what he had recently discovered.

_"It's a trap, sir! The treasure map is a trap! The passcodes, they are a fragmentary set of hexadecimal codes! I just managed to decode them. Together, they read 'You are under arrest, Phil'. Change your route! Change your route now! The Russian police must be on their way!"_

And right at that very last word from Jesse's mouth, the convoy suddenly had to come to a full stop; several numbers of police cars pulled over surrounding them, blocking any way for a possible escape.

Red and Blue nervously held on their guns as they waited for an instruction from the boss. The sight of armored police forces strategically posted around them and ready to shoot any second was enough to cause quiet tensions in the atmosphere from Moscow to Pandemonium.

_"Sir?"_

Remembering the presence of the IT expert at the other end of the line, Phil calmly ordered, "Cut off all system connections. Including this phone call, cut all the possibilities of being tracked down, understand?"

_"Yes, sir."_

Jesse's voice was low and sorry anticipating for the worst to happen.

"And Swanson?"

_"Sir?"_

"Call all Council members. We're moving on to Plan B."

Without waiting for the young man's response, Phil ended the call and dropped the phone. He shook his head at his two inferiors disapproving the obvious plan they had in mind. No, it was not going to work. They had clearly lost this battle already, and the next one didn't have to kick off with numerous unnecessary bloody deaths. So instead, he took a deep breath as preparation, and then carefully navigated his way out of the car. With the rest of the Phoenix following his lead, Phil raised both his hands. The tasked police officers cautiously rushed to arrest the group of criminals. Overall, it was a peaceful surrender. But nobody said it was the end of it.

* * *

_Song/s: (1) Clair de Lune - Claude Debussy [reminds me of the balcony moments] (2) Stay - Rihanna_

_Maybe some of you thought there would be a twist in there, you know, that Beca would actually stay. Don't get me wrong, I've actually considered that idea, but I prefer this one. So I'm really sorry in advance if you think I gave you false hope in there. Now I have two news for everybody. Bad news: I'm having yet another writer's block. Good news: I won't just leave it this way._

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Pitch Perfect.


	17. Prisoner

**_FilipinoBlood: _**_Honestly, I would update everyday if only I could. That would be really nice, but I really have a lot of things in my plate right now with school and stuff. I'm really sorry if it's taking me so long to update. :(_

**_avidreader: _**_I had the same feeling writing this chapter._

**_cxcxcx386, Lackluster Brilliance, PurpleWedding, Moxain, Guest, Guest, FEELS, madness2013:_**_ We really need to slap Beca so hard sometimes. LOL._

**_PitchPerfectLover: _**_I cried like a baby writing the part where Chloe tried to make Beca stay. It didn't help at all that I was listening to Last Dance by Camera Can't Lie._

**_Alexawynters: _**_I don't think there's a room for fluffs here at the moment. Maybe in the future. Just not now. So __I'm afraid I'm going to disappoint you. :(_

**_apple-jacs:_**_ The effect of inserting a Plan B is really magical. Lesson learned from movies. LOL._

**_LaRevolte: _**_Nice to see you handling the situation very well._

**_MysticFalls94:_**_ Oh she will, definitely. Thanks by the way. :)_

**_BeChloeFan01:_**_ That's my favorite part, too! I had to use a lot of creativity to create that though. And you have a great taste in music. We should totally share each other's playlist. Listening to Bloc Party right now. :)_

_**asdfg: **I'd take that as a compliment. :)  
_

**_TEAnon: _**_One of the best reviews I've ever had! Seriously._

**_airdr12:_**_ I honestly wanted to respond to your review as soon as I read it, but since you don't have an account I had to wait for the next chapter. Well, you can find the answer in Chapter 4. Beca told Chloe then "I wouldn't necessarily call dibs on you" which even prompted the redhead to fire her the first time. So when Chloe asked her to prove that she was still the best liar in town, I thought that was the most suitable statement because then "we all know what happened from there" - Beca fell in love with Chloe. So it's kind of like going back to where they started, as strangers again, yet this time, it was a goodbye. There, I hope this clear things out. A little trivia: your favorite part almost didn't make it to the final draft of the chapter._

**_BeChloe Pochel: _**_Yes! Proud Filipino here! :)_

**_mahoushoujocore:_**_ Same feeling here, dear._

_On the chapter... Perhaps, we can say this is like a transition chapter. You'll probably hate me, but yeah, (SPOILER) there won't be any BeChloe interaction here. I just thought I should prepare you for it. And I've been meaning to give you a glimpse of what The Secret Society is all about so... _

* * *

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: **Prisoner**

The ride from the Beale Manor to Pandemonium was rather too eerily quiet Stan could feel his sanity slipping away from him. He secretly wished he could have had the removed communication device, reconnect it, and then Fat Amy could have kept him company as always. What actually happened was he awkwardly sat on the passenger seat releasing what seemed to be a hundred sighs of discomfort while his sister drove the car as if trying to win either a NASCAR or a Formula One race. Truth be told, it wasn't a race against anybody or anything. She was simply running away. Just run away, get lost if possible, until the road back to Chloe Beale could no longer be traced.

One glance at that poker look on her face, that most ridiculously emotionless expression, and anybody could have recognized the return of the horrible monster, the daunting beast, the callous cold-blooded killer. Beca Branson had died, but unexpectedly left an irreparably broken Beca Mitchell. One glance at the pair of dark blue eyes which used to be the sharpest and scariest of them all, and Stan knew that his sister was left with a hole in her metal heart – a hole that nobody else could have ever filled but one certain redheaded monster.

Finally, Beca pulled the car over as soon as they reached the parking lot. She switched off the engine, but instead of climbing out, she remained frozen on the driver's seat just staring into space.

"Welcome back, kiddo!" Stan exclaimed in a forced enthusiasm as he made the full effort of putting on a big grin in the hopes of changing the mood. "You are the worst person to be around with, but Pandemonium has surely missed your permanent appearance. Yes, you must be touched."

The younger Mitchell though made no response – not even a small nod or a quick scoff or a blank stare. Just plain nothing.

"Your baby also missed you," he added referring to the gray Aston Martin Volante, running his eyes over the interior design for effect.

Beca retrieved the set of communication device to be surrendered later on, grabbed her keys, and moved out of the car. Before, this was recognized to be a normal thing, but then suddenly it was totally awkward. Her brother followed closely behind as she entered the building through the backdoor. Stan was making the conscious effort of pitching in stupid jokes along the stroll from the _No Unauthorized Person Allowed _door down to the secret passageway. The brunette was about to step into the elevator when she felt her brother's tight grip on her arm.

"What?" Beca turned around to give him a blank stare – it wasn't threatening, but it also wasn't accommodating. Although, it was a better response than being completely ignored.

"Give me your keys," he demanded.

"I have no time for this," she replied then shrugged off the hand from her arm

Stan quickly grabbed her arm once again, "Just give me your damn keys!"

"What the fuck do you want, Stan?"

The tall young man reached out to snatch the keys from her hand only to be snatched back by his sister. Still, not giving up, Stan tried to snatch it again, but even before his hands could reach the coveted item, he received a hard punch right on his nose; blood soon trickled out from his nostrils.

"I am _not_ in the mood to play games with you," muttered Beca as she mercilessly watched her brother attend to his injury pressing his hands tight to stop further bleeding.

"Well, I'm _sorry_ if I'm trying to be a good brother here," he managed to speak out in spite of the great discomfort. "I'm sorry that I actually want to see you happy, Beca. Now if you think I deserve a lot of punches for that, then fire away."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Give me your keys, and I will do you favor. If you can't seem to make your coward self to drive back to where your heart honestly wants you to be, then I _fucking_ will."

Without warning, Beca threw another hard punch on her brother's face, and Stan could not help but yelp and gasp in pain. For the record, that really hurt. If the punches would keep on coming, he would be lucky to survive until breakfast.

"Idiot," was her only casual response before turning her back on him, and then pressed on the lone button again to open the elevator door. "You better keep your mouth shut, Stan. You'll get us both killed if you say such nonsense again."

The younger Mitchell stepped into the elevator, waited for her brother to follow her lead much to his reluctance, and pressed on the Phoenix button to make the ride transport them down to the secret headquarters. Suddenly, the car ride was better than this. At least Stan didn't have to wipe off some blood from his face.

"Kiddo-"

"Stop it, Stan," Beca immediately cut him off.

"But-"

"Fidelity to The Society."

"You know I'm not sworn to that code."

"I am."

"And that sucks."

The brunette turned to give him a dirty look causing the older one to roll his eyes in annoyance.

"Beca, listen to me-"

"We now have the treasure, and nobody else has to die," she cut him off again. "That's much better than whatever you're plotting in your mind right now, Stan."

Shaking his head in surrender, Stan eventually looked away and sighed. How come he had to listen to his sister and actually submit to her decisions? He's older than her, for Christ's sake!

A few seconds more, the elevator door finally opened. Much to their surprise, Fat Amy was already standing at the opening obviously waiting for them for quite a long time already. The Australian chick appeared anxious, troubled, and scared all at the same time bathing with her sweat this early in the morning.

"There you are," she breathed out in relief. "I've been waiting for you two."

"What's going on?" Stan inquired for himself and his sister's behalf.

"It's chaos around here," the tall blonde woman whispered as they walked through the hallway to the lobby. "Something bad happened. I know it's really bad."

"And how bad is 'really bad'?"

"Jesse called all Council members for an emergency meeting."

Stan checked on his watch. "It's only 5am."

"Precisely the point," she nodded her head. "It must be about the treasure."

"But I thought Phil has it already. What the hell is going on then?"

To answer Stan's question, the three of them immediately stopped when they found the everybody gathered around the lobby with an obviously antsy Jesse Swanson pacing back and forth at the heart of the commotion. If the entire central team of The Secret Society was there for an emergency assembly at five in the morning, something really bad had surely happened.

Stan and Fat Amy exchanged looks while Beca quietly watched everyone from where she stood. She met Cynthia Rose's eyes, and at the black woman's cue, the rest of the crowd soon turned to look at the newly-arrived trio. The murmurs and small talks faded out as everybody fixed a stare at them. It's like high school's most hated person was walking through the hallway and everybody had to give him their share of scrutinizing eyes.

"We know we're late, people," Fat Amy held her hands up and nervously chuckled. "But it won't happen again. I promise."

Still, those eyes wouldn't stop staring. What the fuck?

"Come on," the blonde whined, but then snickered when an idea popped in her mind; her cheeks surprisingly started blushing. "You can keep those judgmental eyes to yourselves. Stan and I didn't do _it _in the elevator, you perverts."

Stan struggled to contain a small laugh after a brief choke. Fat Amy was indeed one hell of a woman.

"Beca. Stan," Jesse called out, and the brother and sister turned their eyes on him immediately.

"Yes, there was Beca, too," Fat Amy nodded her head in continuation to her explanation missing the hint of seriousness on Jesse's voice. "I mean, not that, you know… ugh, fuck. You know what I mean already!"

"Phil is in jail," the brunet IT expert announced in the spur of the moment.

Beca and Stan automatically wore confused looks on their faces while the third member of the group had her mouth hanging wide open in utter shock.

"The treasure hunt was a trap," Jesse remorsefully explained. "Apparently, the vaults were designed to allow the police to track the team down. Everybody was arrested, and so I had to cut off all forms of communication with them. And most significantly… we lost all the money. All hundred million dollars… gone."

The announcement ended with his head bowed down in regret and embarrassment. He couldn't stop blaming himself for what happened. He should have known it was a trap. He should have advised the team to take more cautious measures, but instead he guided them further into it. The Secret Society was then in jeopardy.

Fat Amy slowly shook her head in disbelief while the brunette maintained her composure midst the tragic news. The older Mitchell, on the other hand, let out a deep sigh then later on chuckled in the hopes that it was in fact just one crazy not-so-funny joke.

"You're kidding, man… right?"

"I wish I am, Stan," replied Jesse in all honesty.

"So... n-now what?"

Jesse took a deep breath before shifting his gaze towards the still wordless brunette standing next to her brother. She stared back with the same calm and uncaring pair of eyes she had this whole time.

"The Council has decided, Beca. You're taking over. Effective _immediately_. You are now the Head of The Secret Society. From this moment on, all Phoenixes are under your command."

With that, everybody turned to look at the startled young woman. _What? _Even Stan and Fat Amy themselves sported their own stunned looks as they fixed a stare at the new Head. This just couldn't be. Stan spent all his life trying to pull his younger sister away only to be chained into the deepest core after one single unforeseen twist.

Meanwhile, Beca Mitchell was never been the one who was susceptible to peer pressure; she was a very strong woman with a strong spirit, but seeing the hopeful faces staring back at her made her feel locked up in a pressure cooker. Here came the time that The Secret Society was on the verge of a terrible collapse. They were losing funds rapidly weakening the organization. After all their efforts, one million dollars slipped away from their fingertips plus Phil Mitchell was about to rot in prison leaving the most significant role vacant. Indeed, The Society had found itself in a very dark place. And here were the people who believed that Beca Mitchell was the beacon of light they needed. So more than ever, she knew she had to be a better Phoenix that she'd ever been.

The brunette absentmindedly walked forward, all eyes on her, until she reached the center of the room. Lost for words, she slowly ran her eyes over the group standing before her. Nobody raised a hand to make a protest at Jesse's sudden declaration; Stan did not dare. She looked at them with her usual blank stare, and they only looked back with beseeching calls. In fact, they were waiting. They were waiting for her to speak out, extinguish their doubts and worries, and raise their hopes and positive spirit. She was never prepared to face this moment, not even with Phil constantly telling her that she was born for The Society. But clearly, it was one crucial decision that she had to make. So sharpening her eyes until they appeared like they used to and should be, she spoke out the only thing Beca Mitchell was ever made to believe in.

"Fidelity to The Society."

Jesse smiled proudly at her, and like some contagious disease, the determined grins quickly spread out to all the faces in the lobby. Cynthia Rose rested her fist over her chest to swear her allegiance to the new Head. Soon, the rest of the group eagerly followed.

"Fidelity to The Society."

* * *

The days that came after simply flew by. For Chloe, life went on with Beca Branson no longer by her side. Weeks ago, that kind of life was perfectly fine as a matter of fact. But then suddenly, it became nothing but strange and unfamiliar. If you look at it, the young heiress lived in the same manor, rode the same car, breathed the same air, woke up with the same hair color, fulfilled the same duties, everything was the same… all that was missing was the presence of the brunette bodyguard, just one single person indeed, yet all of a sudden her life had never felt so incomplete.

Aubrey Posen had so much to thank for though. At least there was no sulking, no late night crying, no skipping of meals, no locking up in the bedroom, no lifeless robotic lifestyle, and no heartbreaking Bon Iver song playing on the background. In fairness, Chloe was putting all effort to live – _survive_ to be exact. She would chat, joke around, laugh, and hang out – it seemed _almost _normal. What bothered the Posen heiress, however, was that broken smile her best friend had been trying to master ever since.

"Are you alright?" Aubrey asked.

And then there was that broken smile flashing on Chloe's face again. For some stupid reason (maybe because it was really delicious), the chef had decided to include into the weekly meal plan Beca's tiny smiley pancakes.

"Chloe will have a different meal today," the blonde heiress told Kimmy Jin. "Please instruct the chef to eliminate it from the meal plan."

Kimmy Jin automatically nodded her head before heading to the nearest intercom phone to call the kitchen and give the instructions. As she walked away, Aubrey regretfully followed with her eyes. She was surely going to miss that recipe.

"You didn't have to do that," Chloe shook her head in disapproval. "It's just pancakes."

"Then I suppose it's _just _Beca now," her best friend shot back. "No one special or whatsoever, right? Perhaps, she _just_ came crashing into your life one day, _just _toyed with your feelings when you were most vulnerable, then _just _left without an acceptable excuse for it. Now I guess I _just _have to sit down and watch my best friend play pretend, huh?"

"It's not her fault," defended the redhead. "She's not obligated to stay, Aubrey."

"What happened to staying with you 24/7?"

"I fired her."

It was the perfect reason, the perfect excuse. It was easier to say Beca left because she was fired rather than telling people that she simply walked away because the second one, the one that was closer to the truth, was in fact more gut-wrenching. It was better to believe that Chloe set her free instead of admitting that the love of her life made a choice, and it wasn't her.

"There's no more reason for her to stay here," she added for the sake of conviction.

"We both know there still is."

"The only commitment she had with me was that contract which I happened to impulsively terminate."

"Bullshit."

Chloe gasped in disbelief. Thankfully, the new set of dishes came in – French omelet and oatmeal scones – allowing a necessary pause in the conversation.

"What do you want?" she calmly asked the blonde.

Aubrey stared at her meal for a moment then sighed at her best friend. Shrugging her shoulders helplessly, she admitted, "I don't know. I honestly don't know, Chloe. I mean… I had to put up with Tom for an entire year for you because you said you wanted him. You almost married the douche, and I still would have to stick by your side because I'm your best friend, and you're actually the most important person in my life. Yes, you are more important to me than Stan or my perfectionist of a father."

The redhead had to chuckle at the last sentence especially that the blonde heiress started rolling her eyes.

"I thought you were going to be naively stuck with Tom for the rest of your life when suddenly Beca came into the picture. Surprising as it may sound I liked Beca. Yeah, she had that one hell of an attitude, but on top of that, she truly cared about you. Believe me, it's not because she was hired to do the job, but because she simply do. Like, for once, I can finally leave you alone with someone without worrying that you'll end up getting hurt."

"That's really sweet of you, Posen," Chloe remarked tilting her head to the side with a smirk sitting playfully on her lips. It's not everyday that Aubrey becomes sentimental like this. She usually would just bitch around people.

Aubrey smiled back at her best friend's expression of gratitude, and then lowered her gaze on her plate in contemplation. Letting out another sigh, she would lightly poke her omelet with her fork wondering 'where in the world could Beca Branson be'. Realizing she didn't have a single idea – she didn't even know where the brunette lived to be honest – the blonde heiress looked straight into Chloe's pair of bright blue eyes.

"So what do I want? Maybe… secretly, I want Beca to come back. I _wish_…that stupid tiny evil creature never even left. Then, I wouldn't have to say goodbye to those ridiculously delicious pancakes. I wouldn't have to be looking back at you right now thinking and all worried that… what if I won't get to see your eyes as happy as the way they used to be when Beca was here."

Touched by the rare affection from another form of a typically cranky person, Chloe reached out to rest a hand on top of Aubrey's, squeezed it tight to have a feel that it was actually happening, and put on the most genuine smile she could produce to match her genuine happiness.

"I'm just really _really_ happy that you're here, Aubrey. Countless people will surely come and go, but I know my best friend will always be the one to stay with me. So I guess I'll just have to deal with your crabby bossy attitude for the rest of my life."

Aubrey scowled in protest at first, but eventually relaxed and joined her best friend in a fit of laughter when she grasped that, indeed, she had the _tendency_ to exhibit such behavior.

"Miss Beale," Gail came rushing to the terrace, a cellular device securely clutched in her hand. Despite the tiresome sprint all the way from the front gate, she still seemed excited as she finally reached the young redhead. "A call from your father. He wants to talk to you."

And the big grin quickly spread across Chloe's face. Finally! A call from her father. She snatched the phone from Gail dying each second to talk to her father after such a long time.

"Dad! I miss you!"

Clarence let out a chuckle. His daughter could really be exaggeratedly enthusiastic when she wanted to.

_"I miss you, too, honey. I'm sorry it took me so long to call."_

The grin on Chloe's face only grew bigger when her father sounded so great; no hint that he'd been lying on a hospital bed trying to recover from multiple gunshot wounds. It almost felt like he was right there at the terrace garden with her.

"When are you coming home?" she asked while she hoped he would answer 'soon'.

_"I just called to check on you."_

A little disappointed, the grin shrunk a few centimeters.

"I'm safe, dad, if that's what you want to know."

_"Excellent. That's all I really need."_

"Come home now," the young heiress begged. That's what she needed from her father - just come home and be safe together. It should have been easy, right? But the sound of a long sigh from the other end of the line completely wiped off the beam on Chloe's face.

_"Before your mom died, I promised her that I would do everything to keep you safe, Chloe. But somewhere along the way, I messed something up. Now I need to fix it in order to keep my promise. Good news is that it's almost over. If you could just wait for a little more, sweetheart."_

As if she was looking right at Clarence in person, Chloe nodded her head as she replied, "I'll be right here, dad. I'll be here when you come home."

_"Of course."_

And so the big grin came flashing back.

_"For the meantime, just keep Beca close to you, alright? No matter what happens, stay with her."_

Even in his calm voice, Clarence was unsuccessful to shadow the urgency of his instruction. Chloe turned to Gail to express her confusion, to Kimmy Jin to let her know that she might have made a mistake, and to Aubrey to ask for help. However, none of it made a difference. Beca Branson was already gone.

"I… I-I fired Beca," confessed the young redhead.

Dead air soon followed. Chloe waited, but all the response she received from the other end of the line was silence. For a moment, she started to panic. Why did her father suddenly stop talking? Was he mad that she made an abrupt decision without consulting him? What was it with Beca that her absence then was a big deal?

_"Then I have to come home… now."_

* * *

The television screen turned pitch black as Fat Amy switched the device off with the remote control. Another Council meeting was finally adjourned after a dreadful five hours. It only meant that Beca was finally free to turn her chair around, lift up her feet to rest them on her desk, and then lean back to her seat. Another five minutes of her life compulsorily spent listening to nothing but a series of problems which urgently needed to be addressed. Thanks God the phrase 'I'll look into it' was properly invented.

"So?"

She lazily shifted her gaze towards Jesse who was eagerly waiting for instructions from his new boss. Wasn't he tired from the meeting?

"I can feel my brain cells marching out of my body in total exhaustion," Fat Amy collapsed on a chair with a thud. "Either I have an infantry heading out of my vagina or I'm peeing subconsciously."

The other IT expert moved to his side just to make sure while Stan looked down to check, but the absence of the unwanted liquid told him it was probably just one of the blonde's tricks to compel him to look because then she was smiling at him suggestively. Damn it. He never learnt.

"Come on, boss," the shorter brunet urged. "What's the plan?"

"One, don't call me 'boss'. Two, shut the fuck up."

Jesse immediately gave her a look. This was one of the many disadvantages of having your closest friends to work for you. They would almost never take you seriously.

"Fine," Beca breathed out, moved her feet back to the floor, and started browsing on the papers the guy provided her before the meeting commenced earlier. They were deliberately ignored the entire time by the way.

"Beca," he spoke in a reprimanding voice, and it was so fucking annoying. "Every day the number of problems we need to solve is rising rapidly. We need you to lead the solution."

Newsflash: she didn't have the solution to everything.

"There's just really one problem I see here if you ask me," she argued instead. "It's money. We're running out of funds. That's just it, Jesse."

"Funds keep The Secret Society running, Beca."

"Well, we're not earning enough to sustain everything and everyone," she pointed out the truth, and the other had to shut his mouth. "Perhaps… we're both wrong on this one, Jesse. Maybe the problem here is not really the funds after all. Maybe it's _us_. Maybe it's the fact that we're trying to fit a square into a circular hole. We all know that's just plain impossible. So I guess you had me waste five hours of my life listening to such 'problems' that aren't even supposed to be a problem in the first place."

"Lawyered!" Fat Amy exclaimed and laughed. Unfortunately, the only one who thought it was funny was Stan letting out a few snickers. Jesse was obviously fuming up while Beca – well, Beca never ditched the straight face.

Maintaining a calm voice, Jesse said, "Phil never had maybes for a solution. He always had a clear vision of what he wants for The Society. He's mostly a monster, but I certainly admire his loyalty."

"We can expand our targets," Fat Amy suggested, partly to help but mostly to stop the tension from growing out of hand. "Start accepting assassination jobs, escort drug dealers-"

"No," the Head quickly cut her off, shaking her head in a firm disapproval. "We are _not _hired killers. _We_ are The Secret Society. We don't exist for money; otherwise we're no different from the Syndics. We exist only for the sake of the people."

"And the people are waiting for your plan, Beca."

The brunette sighed upon hearing the persisting voice of the nerdy brunet. Pressure was hurriedly climbing up on her back. _The people_. They were the only option available, and that simply made everything more difficult and complicated. It was as if The Secret Society was one open prison, and each member was a prisoner. How ironic it was when the organization had envisioned a _real_ freedom for life for its people.

And here was Beca Mitchell currently on top of the organizational ladder, the youngest Head in its history. To be a Phoenix was one thing, but to be _the_ Head was a completely different story. One had to problematize other people's problems at the expense of your own. Indeed, Phil had to be admired for doing so great at this job. Unfortunately, this time, it was Beca's job.

"Phil usually increases the quota for theft and meets up with potential contributors for potential endowments," Jesse shared hoping to assist the troubled friend.

But it seemed like Beca already had a plan devised in her mind.

"Fat Amy," she called out. "I need you to make a realignment of the funds. Refer to the reports from our chapters and reallocate according to their priorities. Reduce the Laboratory funds by ten percent – the future can wait – they'll be used instead to address the various emergencies as well as to improve human resources. Make sure to secure jobs for everybody, it should keep them on their feet while we try to get back to normal."

The blonde absentmindedly nodded her head in awe while Beca moved on.

"Jesse, I need you to take care of the businesses, ensure that we garner a great deal from them. We can't afford to lose any more investments. Given the time for the updated allocation of funds to take its toll, we will eventually be able to hit the demands, I believe so. But it'll take some time. This won't be easy money, but it should be more stable. We won't have to depend all the time to the wealthy members' contributions in the long run."

All three had their mouths gaped open as they continuously listen to the instructions. Surprising it was to not hear a single thing about killing or stealing. It's only been a few days, and Beca was already changing the rules of the game.

"But what about the treasure?" Swanson found his voice afterwards to ask a question.

Pausing to ponder about it, Beca ended up shaking her head.

"There is no treasure."

"What about the hundred million dollars we lost?"

"Well," she coolly shrugged her shoulders. "We already lost it. Problem solved… in a tragic sense though, but it's done. Time to move on."

Yes, time to move on. Time to forget about the past. Time to forget about the redheaded monster trying to slip into her mind once again. _No._

"Dispose _all_ unnecessary papers and records from previous missions," was her last instruction, a desperate move to prevent the unstoppable loving memory from _poisoning_ her being.

Beca's orders were certainly gearing towards a different direction from Phil's chosen paths. Nevertheless, Jesse and Fat Amy, both wearing proud smiles for their friend, nodded their heads in full confidence that the new system would work before excitedly leaving the Green Room to start anew.

Silence. Silence soon followed which the horrible monster had started to hate since returning home because in silence, she would find herself thinking about Chloe Beale, wondering about her, missing her, longing for her. Closing her eyes to relax didn't help at all, for it only made the angelic face and those bright blue eyes more evident.

"You're doing so well, kiddo," Stan's voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

Beca turned her eyes towards her brother to see another set of proud smile, but along with it was a trace of ironic despondency. He didn't want to stay obviously. He wanted to get out, and he got the chance when Phil didn't return. But he stayed for her. He only stayed because his sister was already imprisoned within the organization. Leaving without her just wouldn't be right.

"Any word from Moscow?" she inquired.

"All they need are proper evidences," he replied. "Phil and the others are alive right now, but Clarence is making sure they'll get what they deserve. I'm afraid it's really the end of the line for them, for Phil."

She simply nodded her head taking all in. How to feel about it? What's the appropriate emotion for this? Phil was the senior monster, but still, he was their father.

"Hey, you can still hand me over your keys, you know," he tried to convince. "I would still be glad to drive you back."

"Stop it, Stan."

He chuckled instead, "What? Phil's not here anymore. You are now the person here to command what is right and what is wrong. Wait. Are you going to kill me, too, for being 'treacherous' to The Society?"

"No."

"Then come on, kiddo. Go get the girl."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

Restrained, Beca took a deep breath then simply stared at her brother; her face was yet another blank canvass. Stan waited for a reply, a shrug the least, but nothing came. She rather stood up, picked up her keys, and left. She had an answer for it to be honest, but she was afraid it was the wrong one. Perhaps, she would need someone's help to find out. Thankfully, she knew exactly where to find her.

* * *

"How's Barden?"

At the sight of her daughter seated restfully on the office chair, Ronie immediately locked the door behind her afraid that people would witness the presence of an intruder in the building.

"You sneaked in," was her greeting. "I should have been informed if you actually made an appointment. And you should have been in the lounge waiting for me if you went through the _lawful_ process."

"Nice to see you, too," Beca replied in a sarcastic tone while playfully turning the chair side-to-side.

Ronie narrowed her eyes on the unsolicited guest and motioned her hand reprimanding, "Feet off the table, young lady."

The 'young lady' struggled to fight the urge to roll her eyes as she succumbed to the demand. Denying that she just got owned, she stood up all the way just to add a little element of defiance.

"How the hell did you get in here?"

"I have my ways."

Throwing another look at her daughter, the Directress approached her desk to write an address on a piece of paper, and handed it over to the youngster later on.

"Break into my house all you want. Just not Barden."

But the notorious brunette crumpled the paper as soon as she ran her eyes on the writing then tossed it into the trash bin. She won't need it back at Pandemonium.

"What are you even doing here, Beca?"

Beca gave no answer. She walked towards a shelf and absentmindedly ran her fingers through the books neatly stacked. She wasn't interested; she just needed an excuse to avoid the hot seat.

"Ah, dodging questions," the mother recognized the old strategy. "I see you never really changed, honey."

Ignoring the provocation, the young Phoenix proceeded to play with the globe standing peacefully on the corner.

"Chloe Beale came for a visit yesterday."

Then she stopped at the mere mention of the name. She never actually heard it since she left the manor, and it felt strange. Suddenly, she had this hunch that her friends had been careful not to mention it aloud in the fear of whatsoever. But her mother wasn't, and that's when Beca knew it was a right decision to come over.

"She read stories to the kids, sang along with them, and played tag until sunset. Everybody was happy… except that Maverick had many questions. He was wondering where you were, and Chloe seemed to be dodging it with a smile. Better tactic than yours."

The mum brunette let out a small huff as a response and went on pacing from one corner to another. Chloe being the perfect that she was, and little Maverick, of course he would be looking for his friend.

"I'm glad you bailed on the mission," said Ronie with a thankful smile.

"The mission is over," Beca spoke finally. "And it wasn't to kill her."

Confused, her mother needed to ask, "So what's the matter?"

The younger brunette stopped her mini trip within the room, sighed, and turned around to face the other.

"Phil was caught in Russia. He's in prison right now, and… I'm chosen to take over as the Head Phoenix."

Dumbfounded by the news for a minute or so, Ronie exhaled the air caught up in her throat and held on to the nearest chair just in case.

"I hope you're still up for the job," the Phoenix wondered. "You know, telling me what you think about the things I do… I really need you right now, _mom._"

"Listen to your heart," taught the mother.

But Beca shrugged her shoulders, unsure.

"Twelve million. I am now in charge of the lives of twelve _million _people. And every waking hour, I hear them screaming in my head. With all their loud shits, I can't hear my fucking heart talking… if I even have one."

"What do you want?"

"Stan wants me to choose Chloe."

"Your brother only wants the best for you," defended Ronie.

"And _you_ want me to choose one person over twelve million."

"Because she's worth more than twelve million people to you."

"I _am _a Phoenix," Beca insisted.

The other argued, "You're just a human being!"

"I have to protect twelve million people!"

"You can't save twelve million people by killing and stealing from the rest!"

"No, I won't," the young Phoenix shook her head. "I'm not Phil. There _has_ to be another way to save The Society. Someone told me… that I'm more than just a bulletproof character. So that's what I'm gonna do."

Stacie was right; Chloe Beale had clearly changed Beca, and slowly, Beca Mitchell was changing The Society.

"But what do you want, Beca?" asked her mother.

"It's not about what I want, mom, because that would have been an easy question. Then, I wouldn't be here today. I _know_ what I want, but twelve million people will not approve to it. They need me, and so I have to stay."

"Take Chloe with you."

"She doesn't belong in that world. She'll die in a second. _You_ should know that."

"What I know is that I want to see you happy, Beca," Ronie made sure she spoke loud and clear. "You may be a killer machine, but you're still _my _baby. And I love you!"

And that should end the argument right there. Frankly, it was the only conclusion Beca really needed. So slowly, she curved her lips into a smile as she watched the tears stained her mother's face. She didn't get her toughness from Phil; she got it from Veronica. And it was such a relief to see her superhero become human. Funny how love could melt anybody's metal heart.

"Y-You're smiling," her mother pointed out in utter surprise.

Nodding her head amusingly, Beca replied, "Blame Chloe."

But even before the Directress could make a reaction, the Phoenix threw her body forward to hug her mother tight. Honestly, she had been waiting for years to actually do it again.

"I'm already happy that I have you back, mom. Alive."

Just like that, it felt like holding Beca for the first time again – just a sweet, innocent, and fragile baby; and so Ronie happily hugged her back just as tight. Any mother surely couldn't ask for more than this moment.

* * *

"You should be feeling excited because your father will be back tonight, Miss," Paul told the young heiress who had been staring at her phone screen for the last hour. "You can start by deleting that number or just call Beca now and save yourself from another hour of agony."

Chloe turned to the bodyguard through the rearview mirror and supplied a shy smile towards Patrick, the new guy in training, who was awkwardly peering.

Afterwards, Paul pulled over at a gas station. He apologized for needing to use the rest room which his boss didn't have a problem at all. He instructed her to stay in the car while Patrick would guard outside until the senior bodyguard returns. Chloe agreed; she had no choice but to follow anyway.

She stared at Beca's cell number once more. Every day, whenever she could, Chloe would stare at the number while rehearsing a script in her mind for a call she never had the courage to make. She looked out the window, Paul had disappeared into the corner while Patrick paced back and forth right outside the Range Rover. Suddenly, she just found herself dialing the number. Will Beca pick up the phone? What to say? Maybe nothing. Maybe the redhead only needed to hear Beca's voice after all. All the questions came to a halt when no ring was heard. The device was switched off.

Sadly, Chloe let out a disappointed sigh when all of a sudden she felt someone's tight grip from behind and a handkerchief with a dizzying odor sandwiched between her nose and someone else's hand. She tried to scream, but it was no use. She was already losing consciousness. Fast.

"I hope you don't mind being a prisoner for a while," was the only thing she could remember before drifting away completely.

* * *

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Pitch Perfect.


	18. Phoenix

_**Sixteen-95 **__(on Chapter 14): I don't know what to say to you…_

_**airdr12**__: Thank you for the unexpected proposal, but just a warning, I might be the worst wifey in the planet. LOL. When you decide to create an account, you can PM me anytime. Now about the fluffs… yeah, it's not going to happen yet, but I'm going to make it up to you, guys._

_**Guest, kassdun, avidreader, cantansan, IrynSue**__: Thanks so much! :)_

_**apple-jacs**__: I guess that's kind of my line of expertise now._

_**PitchPerfectLover, MysticFalls94, Moxain, lauwer, madness2013, atty jannie: **__We'll see…_

_**FilipinoBlood: **__Thanks for reading Poison & Wine too. These two differ in a lot of things, and so I'm glad that you actually like them both. :)_

_**Lackluster Brilliance: **__I can totally feel the hate for Phil. LOL._

_**Kwtwix: **__I always love their tandem. :)_

_**cxcxcx386: **There is no way to hate Fat Amy!__  
_

_**BeChloeFan01: **__I'm enjoying Cider Sky. I can't believe I've never heard them before! I've been listening to some oldies recently, and this is just what I need to balance things out. Thanks! :)_

_**RobOverstreet**__: We'll make it through together, dear. LOL._

_Funny, I never actually thought it was a cliffhanger until I started reading your reviews. Honest mistake there. I know most of you are looking for fluffs now, but we'll get there. It's just really inappropriate for it right now. So… who kidnapped Chloe? Was it Beca? Phil? Stacie? Some new character? Time to find out. PS. This chapter was such a challenge to write._

* * *

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: **Phoenix**

Beca Mitchell rushed to the door after the first few knocks. If there was one lesson she learned from living in the common quarters with bunches of annoying people, it's the fact that the more you try to ignore the knocking the more they would keep on coming. So if she really wanted to go to sleep peacefully for the night, Beca had to open the door as soon as possible and just get it over with. This better not be Fat Amy though.

"Hi."

The brunette was caught up in a mixture of surprise and confusion at the sight of Stacie Conrad unexpectedly showing up at her bedroom door in the middle of the night. Judging by her attire – tight dark-colored blouse and black leggings – she wasn't anywhere near her own room before coming over. But what was more puzzling about it was the absence of a flirty smile which she usually wore on her lips. Instead, she appeared to be modest that she _almost _resembled Chloe Beale.

"Stacie," Beca breathed out in recognition. It seemed to be the proper way to start a nice conversation. The last thing she needed at this hour was a continuation of the drama they left off the last time.

Unluckily, it didn't help that the taller woman simply flashed a quick shy smile and shrugged her shoulders in response.

"W-What can I do for you?" the other needed to ask suddenly because she wasn't sure anymore whether or not her guest was actually there for another round of their silly little dirty arrangement. Otherwise, they would have already trashed the place at this point.

"I…" Stacie chewed on her lip while she played with her fingers nervously, an ever rare scene in the world. "I-I was wondering… if I could sleep in here tonight."

Truth was Beca wasn't really in the mood for a fuck at the moment; maybe not even ever because it just felt like cheating on Chloe, and it only felt most terribly wrong. The fact that she didn't make any reaction at all gave away the hint without meaning to. Reading the expression displayed on her face, the unexpected guest hurriedly shook her head to dismiss the malicious idea.

"No sex. We don't have to do it tonight. I didn't come here for that. I just want to sleep in here… with you."

That didn't make any sense, and so the other furrowed her eyebrows in further confusion.

"I know I'm not even supposed to be here at this time," Stacie admitted. "You are the Head Phoenix now, and nobody should be barging into your door unwarranted like this. But if you let me, I would like to lie down next to you on your bed – _fully clothed_ – and then sleep next to you until the morning comes. You don't even have to touch me… or talk to me. Just let me stay next to you, Beca."

Processing the entire request in her head, Beca glued her eyes on the woman standing hopefully before her. Call her dense, but was it another move from Stacie to win her affection? Wasn't it clear already that it's never going to happen? Just why did she have to continue hurting herself like this? But maybe Beca had become too soft than her usual self because seconds after, she was nodding her head in approval. She willingly let her guest in, closed the door behind her, and stood unnervingly in place.

"Uh…" she started scratching the back of her head unsure of what to say. "Y-You can… pick something out of my clothes that you can change into if you want. I think you'll… feel more c-comfortable sleeping in."

Treating it as a command from her superior, Stacie gladly walked to the closet to grab some clothes she could wear for the night. She stripped off her own immediately, and the quiet cricket couldn't help but to admire the curves of her body. She loved Chloe, no doubt about that, but we have to admit that Stacie was really sexy. Thankfully, the guest had finally covered her exposed skin with Beca's loose black shirt and a pair of shorts.

Realizing she should have not been watching the entire time, the shorter brunette casually walked towards the bed, climbed up, pulled the blanket over her tiny physique, and lied down. Stacie soon followed after switching off the lights, and then they both silently stared at the ceiling in the darkness of the night. If a needle was dropped down on the floor, it would sound like a thousand drums beating simultaneously in celebration. It was certainly an awkward silence in its highest potential as they lied down side by side like what normal people would do when all they had been accustomed to doing in this room was having sex.

"I'm really sorry I came to bother you," Stacie decided to break the silence with a faint whisper. She wasn't trying, but the softness in her voice was just as tempting.

The other one who would normally reply to her with an annoyed huff figured it was more appropriate to speak out this time instead.

"Don't worry about it. I kind of want you here anyway."

It was the least she could say for this person who was more than willing to do everything for her. Stacie remained true to her word – she didn't touch Beca, she kept the two-inch gap between them, and refrained from talking anymore despite of the growing urge of throwing herself at the woman lying next to her. Beca, however, found the audacity and discretion to search for her guest's hand under the sheets and clasped their hands together. Stacie abruptly turned to her side in utter surprise, but her company reassured her with a gentle squeeze.

"You may not be that person who I want to stay with me forever," the Head Phoenix told her in a sleepy murmur. "But you certainly are one of those friends I don't ever want to lose. Always remember that, Stacie."

Stacie instinctively nodded her head in agreement as her lips slowly curved into a fulfilled smile. She didn't intend the night to turned into something like this, but it was certainly beginning to be the best among its kind. She never tore her eyes away from Beca afraid that she would disappear in the blink of an eye, that in a split second she would wake up from this incredibly good dream. As luck would have it, after the next hour or so, Beca Mitchell was still lying there next to her and their hands still clasped together.

"Beca?" the guest whispered, but received no response from the other, and so went on saying, "I love you so much I'd do anything for you."

Still no response from the sleeping beauty, she pulled her hands from the grip as slowly as possible, half-heartedly letting go. This was what she came here for. One last night with Beca while the horrible monster still had no reason to hate her. One night that was different from the rest. Just one more night that was worth remembering no matter what the future would have held for them.

"Even if it hurts," Stacie added, smiling sadly along with a few tears from her eyes as a bid of goodbye to the love of her life. "Now if I ever hurt you, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Beca."

Then she gave Beca one last look before bravely turning her back on her generous host. Stacie soon found her way to sleep missing the supposedly asleep pair of dark blue orbs deliberately shut open in the dark.

* * *

"Phil Mitchell and his men are still in prison, sir," Luke reported to his boss as long as the phone call from Moscow ended. It was directly followed by other related information and concerns, but it was all Clarence Beale needed to know. He was back in the United States, on his way home where his daughter promised to wait for him, and the only danger in their lives was thousand miles away from them. Perhaps, they were already safe. The nightmare was finally over.

The convoy of shiny black luxury vehicles entered the manor premises through the fancy looking iron gate, and the wealthy man couldn't wait any longer. The convoy slowly approached the front stoop where no sign of an excited Chloe could be seen, not even the ever-present Aubrey Posen was there to welcome him back; only Gail, Kimmy Jin, and a group of security personnel. Clarence consciously shut down the growing notion that something bad had happened. It just couldn't be. Not with his only enemy already locked up in jail.

The car finally stopped at the bottom of the stoop. He climbed off the car straightaway not bothering to wait for any of the bodyguards to open the door for him. Despite of his aching back due to his wounds still on the way to recovery, Clarence raced against the cold late night breeze to his welcome party.

"Where's Chloe?" was his very first question.

His executive assistant who looked happy to see him back yet displayed an apprehensive expression on her face at the same time. Kimmy Jin, too, disturbingly had the same appearance.

"U-Uh, sir… t-there's something you need to know about-"

Clarence didn't like where the sentence was potentially heading to, and so with his heartbeat starting to pound like crazy in his chest, he proceeded inside the manor sprinting as fast as he could. Luke and the rest had no other choice but to simply trail behind their boss. The father eagerly resorted to the stairs, even skipping some steps, to go to his desired floor, not bothering to make a pause from running until he could reach the pink door. Somehow, he managed to breathe in relief when he saw some light slipping from inside the room through the small gap between the door and the floor. Good sign.

"Chloe?" he knocked, desperation and worry stained his voice. "Chloe, it's me. I'm home, sweetheart."

No response came from the other side of the door. Not a good sign.

Distraught by it, Clarence quickly punched in the passcode to unlock the pink door. He just needed to see his daughter right away. He needed to see her safe and sound.

"Chloe," he pushed the door open, but suddenly stopped when a different young heiress was sitting on his daughter's bed. Aubrey Posen was helplessly crying her eyes out with her phone clutched in her hand while Paul was fretfully pacing back and forth at the foot of the bed; both were mortified by Clarence's presence. "Aubrey, where's Chloe?"

Aubrey remorsefully shook her head, and the old man didn't like what the gesture meant. He didn't like it at all when the crying intensified as time passed by.

"She's missing," sobbed the Posen heiress. "I called everybody I know, but nobody seemed to have seen her."

Clarence furiously dashed to Paul, grabbed him by the collar, and started yelling at his face, "What happened? Where the hell is my daughter?"

In great humiliation and self-disappointment, the man in black suit apologetically bowed his head down. It was his fault, and there was no acceptable excuse for failing his job. Chloe was easily kidnapped under his watch. It would have never happened if only Beca was there instead of him.

"They were parked at a gasoline station," Aubrey opted to explain in behalf of the number of people concerned already shaking in fright. "Paul needed to leave Chloe with Patrick, but when he returned to the car, both were already missing. There's no note or call or anything though."

"I'm sorry, sir," was all Paul could tell his angry boss.

Releasing him from his hostile grip, Clarence calmly turned to the rest of his group. Staying mad wasn't the solution. He needed a plan. Chloe didn't just go _missing_. She was taken by somebody with the wrong intentions. Clearly, to determine the 'who' in this puzzle had to be the first matter to be resolved. But if Phil was still behind bars, then who could have possibly kidnapped his daughter? One young bodyguard in training couldn't be the mastermind in all of this.

* * *

The next day, Beca woke up with Stacie no longer sleeping peacefully by her side. And the days after that, the tall brunette was nowhere to be seen. Even Stan voiced out the same observation, but nobody seemed to have bothered to look for her. _She's on a mission_, Jesse would suggest. Possible it was. But a mission ordered by who? The new Head Phoenix didn't order her anything to accomplish. Thus, the curiosity made constant appearances in Beca's thoughts.

"Hey, Beca!"

Fat Amy and Jesse hurriedly ran towards the brunette as soon as they saw her stepped out of the elevator preventing her from taking furthermore steps.

"H-How was your meeting with that dirty old wealthy man? Is he in?"

"I didn't give him any other option," the brunette coldly answered as she tried to push her way through the human wall before her.

"Wait!" Fat Amy used her relatively larger body to block the way again. "L-Let's… go have dinner. J-Just the three of us, you know. Have a little bonding. And I-I heard there's a… new addition at the local diner. Yum!"

"Not hungry," replied Beca who was starting to get annoyed by the nagging.

"Or," the blonde grabbed her by the shoulder which the other reacted automatically with an infuriated 'back off' look prompting the Australian to recoil. "Uh… Swanson, help."

"Strip club!" the guy exclaimed the first thing in his mind then reopened the elevator door. "There's a new strip club just a few blocks away… Y-You've been working so hard, Beca. I-It's high time that we… r-reward you with… r-racy women who I hope haven't caught STD yet and would give you a lap dance in exchange of money, and… of course, you can fuck them all you want."

Fat Amy convincingly nodded her head in agreement and was about to escort the brunette back to the elevator when the Head Phoenix warned her with a threatening evil glare.

"One more shit from either of you, and I swear I'll stab you all I want."

Immediately, the poor pair shut their mouths at the expected death treat. With the new found peace in the atmosphere, Beca made her way through once more. However, though wordless, Jesse and Fat Amy still went on to courageously stop her again. She knew that they knew what could have been the tragic consequence of their action; hence, that was when she realized that they weren't essentially playing games with her. It was then obvious that they were actually up to something.

"What?" she asked direct to the point.

The two IT experts nervously exchanged questioning looks, but spoke nothing in the end.

"Just tell me what the fuck is up, idiots."

"W-We simply want to spend-" Fat Amy made another attempt only to be cut off by Jesse.

"Leave."

"Jesse!" the blonde scolded even pushing him a little too hard in the hopes that he would get back to his senses. "We're not supposed to-"

"Come on, Beca, leave! _Now!_"

Taken aback by the sudden urgency of command and the manifestation of seriousness on his face, Beca froze in place feeling very confused at the situation. What was really going on here?

"I'm _begging_ you to leave Pandemonium as soon as possible and stay away, Beca."

Fat Amy soon joined the petition in surrender nodding her head at her friend encouragingly.

"Oh there's my favorite Phoenix."

Beca heard the sound of a familiar voice and had instantly put the puzzle pieces together. Her friends quickly parted at the sound of footsteps approaching them revealing the one and only Phil Mitchell. But how?

"I was about to go to your room," he chuckled at how stupid it would have been if he wasted his time going to the empty bedroom. "I'm back, Beca. Obviously."

The younger Mitchell glanced at her friends who had their heads worriedly bowed down before throwing a blank stare at her father.

"You don't seem so happy to see me," observed the old man which the brunette responded with another wordless and emotionless gesture. Fortunately, it would seem normal for the old Beca, so he simply went on. "Well, prison started to bore me, so I decided to break out. It wasn't my fault that the police are just plain idiots. You didn't think I'd rot in there, did you?"

Still, Beca was on mute.

"Anyway," he happily ushered her to walk with him deeper into the headquarters while the other two opted to be left on their own. "Thanks for taking care of everything for me while I was gone. I heard you were doing a phenomenal job as the Head, but I guess I can take it from here, yes? Besides, I know you enjoy working in the field more than letting time pass by in the Green Room."

It was so fucking annoying that Phil sounded horribly cheerful all along until they made a halt at the door to the Black Room.

"Indeed, one true remarkable Phoenix like you deserves a reward," he turned to his daughter with a big grin plastered on his face. "I hope you like my gift, Beca."

Phil reached for the knob to open, and Beca followed him in. Right at the first few seconds in the room, her heart achingly sank deep down. She finally understood why Fat Amy and Jesse were trying to keep her out of the headquarters, what exactly the pair had been trying to protect her from – the _real_ reason.

There was Chloe Beale coercively seated at a _stool_ in the middle of the room; her hands securely tied behind her as well as her feet on the floor making it more difficult to balance her already feeble body. She was clearly worn-out from such uncomfortable position and scared from seeing nothing but the darkness within the bounds of her blindfold. The stream of tears falling from her eyes and her cries of agony became an extra punch at Beca's gut. Everything was too unbearable to watch that the horrible _monster _herself had to look away. However, she wished she hadn't because she only caught the presence of the last two people she wanted to see taking part of the scheme. First was Stan who was standing quietly at a corner, and the other was Stacie who was tasked to keep the redhead from falling off the stool. Both obviously couldn't keep an eye contact with her.

"Stop!" Phil ordered Blue and Red who were taking turns at beating up the already sore young man in a black suit hanging up like a punching bag; all their anger and grievances from falling into the trap were vented out on him. "Save some of the fun for my daughter."

The reinstated Head Phoenix briefly glanced at his other child who was already shooting him a dirty look from the distance. It had always been a mutual understanding of animosity between the father and son.

"Please stop hurting him! Please!"

One week. It had been a week since Beca last saw the redhead, so to hear her voice again for the first time strained with weeping in misery was more than excruciating, and the fact that the former bodyguard was simply standing there helplessly watching everything made it more frustrating than anything else.

"Don't worry," Phil guaranteed her. "You'll have your turn."

"It's… okay, Miss," Patrick managed to speak out in a low and weak voice, coughing out some blood in the process.

Blue gave him another punch on the stomach then shouted, "Shut the fuck up!"

"Do… what you… w-want with me. Just… f-feed her… water… It's b-been days… Please."

"I said shut the fuck up!"

"L-Let her sleep… rest… or… j-just let her go."

For a bodyguard in training, Patrick was absolutely doing a good job. Even in his condition, he was still trying to protect Chloe. He was still doing something, unlike Beca who had simply frozen in place dumbfounded. Although in her defense, fighting back at this point would only cause more trouble.

"You don't tell us what to do," Red reminded. "If I want to fuck her, all you have to do is shut your fucking mouth, understand?"

"Y-You'll have… to… kill me first… b-before you… do something to her."

Phil coolly pulled his pistol out and shot a bullet right into the young man's head. Dead, just like that. Laughing their lungs out, Blue and Red cut off the rope and so the corpse fell down on the floor soon bathing in a pool of blood.

"Patrick!" Chloe called out frantically turning her head from left to right then back hoping to get a peek through her blindfold. If only the piece of obstruction would fall off, then she could have seen a group of men already pulling the dead body out of the room. "Say something! Please! You can't die! Patrick!"

"Patrick just got what he wanted," the Head Phoenix supplied the information. "One thing you'd like about me is that I'm easy to talk to."

Chloe's cries made another restart for who knew how many times since they were kidnapped. Most of them were because she was feeling a lot of pain. For three days, she was not allowed to eat, not even a drink, deprived from sleep and comfort, and imprisoned in the Black Room with blindfold around her head; all she was made to do was sit on the stool. Sometimes, she would wish to pass out and just collapse on the floor, but including that was prohibited as somebody was stationed to keep her seated. Nevertheless, this time, she was crying her eyes out because Patrick was dead. They killed her only source of sanity. And from out of the blue, it was as if life was already slipping away from her, too. It was either the tears had stopped falling or maybe she'd run out of them. She didn't even realize that she was falling back again until she felt a pair of hands positioned her body back.

"Kill me," suddenly escaped her mouth in the weakest possible whisper. "Just kill me now."

Beca glued her eyes on the broken redhead. Really, it was amazing how the quiet cricket was able to keep the straight face all this time as if she didn't care, as if she wasn't mad, as if she wasn't dying as well. She maintained that indifferent stare in spite of the fact that she was just as broken as the woman mercilessly being tortured in front of her. But it was the only way to save Chloe. She needed to be a Phoenix to save Chloe's life, for the moment the others would figure out the connection between them Phil wouldn't think twice to kill the young heiress. It wasn't a risk the mighty Phoenix would take.

"Kill me. _Please._"

If only Beca could approach her, console her, hold her in her arms, and tell her it's going to be alright; just hang on a little more, and then it's going to be fine. Beca needed her to be tough, at least just this instance, because as selfish as it may sound, she wouldn't want Chloe to die. That would be one torture the daunting beast would _never_ be able to survive.

"Trying to beat me at my own game, huh?" Phil chuckled. "I'll kill you when _I _want to kill you. Maybe when I already have what I need."

"Just kill me already!" the captive yelled with all her remaining energy.

Red immediately gave her a hard slap across her face for being _disrespectful_ to his boss that the redhead could only whimper in pain. Beca mentally put his name on top of her list of people to kill as soon as the opportunity was found.

"That's one way to die," told the Head Phoenix. "It doesn't feel good, does it?"

"What do you want from me?" Chloe only screamed louder.

Phil amusingly wore another smile after taking a deep breath. He made his way to their maltreated guest who wasn't aware of his approximate distance from him.

"I thought you'd never ask," he said touching her face, but the young heiress quickly moved her head away in repulsion.

Beca fought the urge to strike quietly from behind balling her shaking fists as tight as she could. She caught Stacie's eyes, however, and the tall brunette cautiously shook her head in disapproval reading Beca's mind.

"To begin with, I know what it feels like to be imprisoned, just to be fair. I just got out from jail, you know. Why was I in jail again? It's because your traitor of a father turned me in. It was a really good trap, I'll give him that. _Astonishing._ But I think he will agree with me when I say this one right here is much _much _better."

"Leave my father alone," Chloe tried to warn which her kidnappers had only laughed off. "Please don't hurt him."

"Oh Clarence doesn't care about his own life. That's why you're here."

"What do you want from him?"

"It's actually quite simple, _Chloe_. All I want is the treasure. So not until I get it you'll be my prisoner. He steals my treasure, I steal his. Fair enough, right?"

Not that treasure again. _There's no treasure_, Beca screamed in her head. There was no treasure to be found, so the madness had to be stopped already. Unconsciously, she was slowly marching towards her father. The initial plan was to plant her sharp knife right into his back and pull it down across his spine until he could puff his one last breath of life. Just as she was about to draw out her weapon, she found her brother standing right in front of her blocking the way. He whispered something, something like a cautionary, but the brunette was not interested enough to listen to this traitor.

"Hey, you!" Blue called out on Stan, and everybody consequently turned their attention to him leaving a perplexed Chloe with a blindfolded pair of eyes. Did she do something?

The tall young man deliberately turned around to face his father hiding his sister away from him in the process. Curiously, Phil shot him a glare then looked over to his side to find Beca silently standing behind. Why did she have to be so good at being emotionless that even her father had no hint what she meant? Luckily, an idea popped into his mind. He briefly glanced at the clueless redhead behind him then back at his own daughter.

Stan threw an evil look at his father when he had read the plan quickly forming in his mind. Nevertheless, chuckling while shaking his head in hilarity, Phil walked past his son and stopped right a few inches from Beca.

"Forgive me," he whispered into her ear as a start of their private conversation. "But I just don't really trust your brother. Now I have this _silly_ feeling that you might have brought with you back your disguise. You know, _pretending_ to be her bodyguard… sworn to protect her. It's just really disturbing for me, Beca. Perhaps, you could do me a favor… Let's renew our 'Fidelity to The Society', yes?"

Beca flashed him a blank stare, and Phil put on a satisfied grin on his face. Silence means yes, isn't it?

"Chloe," he eagerly turned to the redhead as he escorted his daughter towards the blindfolded captive. "Sadly, I can't kill you _yet_ despite of your _heartfelt_ requests. But I don't want to tarnish my reputation, so… how about this? There's someone I know who's been friends with death for a _very_ long time. To make it up to you, she'll be glad to give you a taste of it. _And_… you know, if you have something to say about the treasure, feel free to share it with us."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Chloe firmly replied.

The Head Phoenix let out a sigh then patted Beca's shoulders as a go signal. What to do then? Beca stared at the tensed redhead captured before her. Meanwhile, Stacie intently watched her fellow Phoenix, waiting for a move she knew Beca never intended to do.

"This might help," Phil handed an old M9 pistol over his daughter which the brunette had recognized. It was the first and last gun she had ever held, the same gun she used when she was asked to kill her mother.

Beca stared at the pistol for a while racking her brain what to do with it. If she had shot Chloe and knowing so well that Phil wouldn't offer a proper medical care for the wound, the redhead might not be able to survive the night. She'd be able to kill a number of enemies with it though, but they would have the chance to fire back instigating a shootout. Too exposed, Chloe could get killed in the process. So as an option, the brunette released the magazine and started retrieving some cartridges – six cartridges all in all. The Phoenix then walked around and bent over to place each of them in between Chloe's proximal phalanges. Before second thoughts could prevail, she tightly pressed the redhead's fragile fingers together, and the young heiress screamed in enormous pain. Even Stacie cringed at the torture.

The Phoenix immediately paused before the bones could break. Honestly, she wouldn't want to do it again, but Phil motioned her to carry on, and so she did. Chloe screamed her lungs out, a few tears involuntarily rolled down her cheeks, until the torture stopped. This time, it was because Beca couldn't handle the sound of agony coming from the person she most cared about anymore.

Before Phil could order her to go on again, she purposely let go of the trembling hands dropping the cartridges on the floor. Instead, she went on to pick up the remaining rope previously used on Patrick. She cut off the rope tied around Chloe's hands then helped her up with Stacie's assistance. The redhead had been sitting for such a long time that it seemed like she had forgotten how to stand already. Beca held Chloe's delicate hands on top of the heiress' head, tied the pair together, and then onto the bar right above so the captive was standing up – with the weak body on the verge of collapse, it was more like hanging – the way Patrick used to. It hurt and it'll hurt more in the long run, but at least for the meantime, she was finally able to stretch out her bones a little. It was evident on her quiet breathing of relief. Beca had known, but the rest of the group didn't have to.

"How are you feeling?" Phil asked the redhead, coolly lighting up the cigarette stick in between his lips.

"Fuck you," muttered the captive in response.

For that, Red slapped her hard again – twice; her pale cheeks were already beginning to bruise. The quiet cricket had the instinct to stab Red, but her stupid sense of reason managed to impose resistance.

"All I want is the treasure, Chloe, and then all of this will be over."

Chloe weakly shook her woozy head, "I really don't know what you're talking about."

"Very well," the Head Phoenix smoked again after motioning his daughter to go on with the torture.

Beca let out a deep sigh; she needed it if she wanted to carry on. But she could clearly hear Chloe's frail unsteady breaths causing the same pain in her own chest. What was she doing? Fuck Fidelity to The Society. She was supposed to be protecting Chloe. And it was not because she worked as the bodyguard for some considerable time, but because she actually loved this person. Beca would kill for Chloe and would die for her, right? But what was happening here was that the mighty Phoenix was killing the love of her life, and Beca was dying along with the young heiress. Maybe Chloe was wrong. Maybe Beca was _just _a horrible monster after all. Nothing more, nothing less.

In her moment of contemplation, she didn't notice Red leaving the room nor her father standing by her side. Phil pulled out the sharp knife from her breast pocket and shoved it into her hand.

"Stamp her," he ordered. "Let her know who we are. Let Clarence Beale know that he's been messing up with the wrong people."

Stan furiously moved forward, but the ever loyal Blue automatically pointed a gun at him as a warning. Great, there were two people Beca needed to protect then. So nodding her head in compliance, she gripped the knife tightly in her hand and walked closer to the captive. She made a quick shallow cut on Chloe's right cheek, just below the eye. The redhead flinched at the unexpected pang of pain. Beca knew it hurt, but she'll have to prepare her for it.

At Phil's cue, she ripped off the top of Chloe's blouse exposing the collarbone along with a wider range of skin. Using her knife in the slowest possible manner, Beca started scribbling the words _The Secret Society _just below the collar bone. Blood quickly trickled from the trace of laceration along with the agonizing feeling of long-lasting pain. Chloe tried to get away as far as her restraints would allow, but Stacie half-heartedly held her still. It was better than having Beca to accidentally cut the vital veins. At the middle of the second word, the redhead resorted to biting her lip to endure the excruciating amount of pain until it also bled – a little distraction for her brain which had very little effect unfortunately.

Red was back with a bowl of salt by the time Beca was done with her piece of blood-spattered art. Then, from out of the blue, Phil drew a dot using the burning tip of his cigarette finishing the stamp on Chloe's skin. The redhead had to yelp in pain once more.

"Have you ever heard the expression 'rubbing salt in somebody's wounds'?" the oldest Mitchell sounded annoyingly innocent as he passed the bowl of salt to his daughter. "I heard it is medically proven that it can heal wounds. It stings though."

Chloe faintly opened her mouth to make a courageous response, but before she could utter a sound, Beca hurriedly rubbed some salt on the lacerations. That was what Phil wanted to happen anyway, so let's just get it over with. True enough, the wounds stung like hell. The poor redhead frantically shook her body hoping to ease the unbearable pain but with no luck. Phil, Blue, Red, and the other loyal Phoenixes present in the room were in chorus laughing joyfully while Chloe was making some piercing scream and crying loudly in misery when the unexpected suddenly happened.

"Beca!" the redhead yelled out in one long breath.

Everybody including Beca herself was caught in a surprise. Nobody said a word, nobody dared to move. The room simply fell silent. Chloe's unsteady, loud, and heavy panting sounded like wedding bells in chaos. Of all the things that the redhead had spoken the entire time, it was the only thing that truly alarmed Phil Mitchell. He quickly glanced at his daughter who finally showed some expression – a completely flabbergasted one – then intentionally hit the redhead right on her face.

"What did you say?" asked the Head Phoenix.

Chloe deliberately tried to catch her breath as her tears continued to flow down before answering in great confidence, "T-There's someone I know who can kick your asses anytime. The moment Beca f-finds out that I've been kidnapped… she wouldn't think twice to come hunt you down."

And Beca's heart sank deeper at those words. If only Chloe knew that she'd been the one hurting her all this time; that Beca was actually standing just a few inches from her; one blindfold, just one piece of blindfold standing between them.

"And why do you think would _Beca_ do that?"

Recalling the only remaining hope she could hold on to, Chloe spoke out, "Because she loves me. I _know_ Beca loves me."

With that, Phil patiently walked around pushing Stacie aside to untangle the redhead's blindfold. It was already soaking wet from tears anyway. A few more seconds and the piece of cloth fell down on the floor revealing the real identity of the one and only Beca Mitchell. In great disbelief, those bright blue eyes that used to light up at the presence of this quiet cricket stared at Beca with the rational feeling of being betrayed.

"I think that would be enough for the day, Beca."

Phil gave her a pat on the shoulder before marching out of the Black Room with his ever loyal Phoenixes trailing right behind him. Stacie rushed to the control device mounted on the wall to lower the bar so Chloe could somehow sit comfortably on the floor while Stan stood by the door as a lookout. But the two other people in the room were too consumed at their eye contact not caring to look away for a second.

"Chloe," Beca found the nerve to reach out for the angelic face already stained with bleeding cuts and bruises.

Chloe, however, flinched at the touch. Gone were the days when she calmed at the feeling. Gone were the times when she felt most secured in Beca's hands. Gone were the moments when Beca was her safe haven. But the brunette certainly couldn't blame her. So with all her strength, Beca walked away and left.

* * *

_1am_. It was the perfect time for a cigarette break when everybody else was either dozing off on their posts or sleeping in their quarters although, for the moment, most of the guards were stationed at the home office with Clarence. Paul leaned back on the trunk of a Pecan tree while enjoying the smoke through the cold evening. Thanks to Beca for discovering this quiet and isolated area in the huge manorm. Feeling the sleepiness gradually taking over his senses, he ultimately decided to call it a night, and stood up to proceed to his own room. All he did was to turn around when he felt his neck being dragged down for a headbutt. Caught unprepared, he fell back down on the grass feeling nauseous.

"Beca," was all he could utter.

The former bodyguard kicked him as if he was a stationary soccer ball lying helplessly on the ground. She kicked him again and again and again…

"You had one job!" she screamed at him not caring if she happened to draw everyone else's attention. "One _fucking_ job, Paul! All you have to do is to keep her safe! Why the fuck did you have to fail?"

"Beca, listen to me-"

Beca held him in place and threw a painful punch on his jaw.

"I'll kill the hell out of you, Paul!"

Using all his power, Paul caught her hands and pushed his way up to put him back on his feet. But she swiftly pulled out her knife and lounged it towards him. Luckily, reflex compelled him to back away obtaining only an unfashionable cut on his black suit. Beca showed no sign of stopping or slowing down so having no other option, Paul had to step in letting the knife penetrate his skin in order to hold a tight grip of her arms. Still, she went on it.

"Alright, alright! I failed!" he yelled at her in admission even throwing a punch. "I failed on keeping her safe! But so did _you_!"

And finally, that last sentence made the daunting beast stop. She fixed her dark blue orbs on the man as if her life depended on it.

"I know The Society kidnapped Chloe!" he exclaimed. "They passed through me, but you have all the chance to protect her in your home! And the fact that you're here right now going hysterical _without _Chloe with you, then you know you failed, too."

Beca glared at him because he was telling the truth, and it actually hurt more than the punch he threw. Furious, she pushed him towards the trunk and locked him in place with a knife stabbed on each of his hands then stormed off.

"Beca!" Paul called out while trying to escape his _crucifixion_. "We're just the same! We both belong to a society we know is bullshit! You know Clarence isn't the enemy here! It's _us_! Beca, wait!"

But the brunette had already sneaked out of the manor. She quickly went inside her car then stared into space just thinking how angry she was. She was so angry that she could honestly just explode. So that's what happened; Beca started striking the steering wheel with both hands in great angst. She didn't stop even when her knuckles began to swell because she deserved it; she was so mad at herself – no, not at Phil or Stan or Stacie or Paul. Beca was so mad _only_ at herself. It's her fault, of all people. All her life, all she had known to do was to kill. Then suddenly, she found this one single person who gave her all the reason to be different, to be more than a horrible monster, to be a lot better, to give a shit about every little thing in this fucked up planet. And she failed her. She had failed Chloe.

So for the first time in her life, Beca started shedding some _tears_. The mighty _Phoenix _was _crying_. She was in so much pain and sorrow drowned her every sense. And it was all because of Chloe Beale.

* * *

_Well, we all wanted to smack Beca, right? That should be the hardest blow. You asked for it, people._

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Pitch Perfect.


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